COPYRIGHT  1865,  1875,  1893,  1896,  BY 
MARY   MAPES  DODGE 

COPYRIGHT   1915,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRTBNER'S  SONS 


Published  September    1915 


^f          + 

0         ' 


335804 


GRETEL'S  NEW  SKATES 


PREFACE 

THE  story  of  Hans  Brinker,  or  of  any  boy  born  and 
bred  in  Holland,  cannot  be  fitly  told  without  including 
something  of  the  story  of  Holland  itself, — of  its  history, 
its  oddities,  and  the  leading  characteristics  of  its  heroic 
and  thrifty  people.  All  these  must  be  borne  in  mind, 
for  some  of  the  traits  peculiar  to  his  race  are  ingrained 
in  every  Hollander,  young  or  old,  and  Holland  is  as  dif- 
ferent from  Elsewhere  as  can  be  imagined. 

Therefore,  necessary  and  careful  descriptions  of  Dutch 
life  and  customs  have  been  given  in  the  narrative,  and 
many  of  the  incidents  are  drawn  directly  from  life.  Even 
the  wonderful  experiences  of  Raff  Brinker  are  founded 
strictly  upon  fact. 

While  acknowledging  my  obligations  to  many  well- 
known  writers  on  Dutch  history,  literature  and  art,  I 
turn  with  especial  gratitude  to  two  kind  friends,  natives 
of  Holland,  who,  after  their  marriage,  had  taken  up  their 
abode  in  this  country.  With  generous  zeal,  they  patiently 
answered  questions,  and  took  many  a  backward  glance 
at  their  country  for  my  sake,  seeing  it  as  it  looked,  years 
ago,  when  the  humble  home  of  the  Brinkers  crouched  by 
the  sheltering  dike  in  sunlight  and  shadow. 

It  was  my  tardy  good  fortune  to  visit  Holland  not  long 
after  this  book  was  written,  and  see  with  my  own  eyes 
the  land  I  had  tried  to  picture  for  my  readers.  The 


viii  PREFACE 

Brinker  cottage  was  empty,  and  many  things  in  Holland 
had  changed  since  the  days  when  Hans  and  his  little 
sister  skated  on  the  frozen  "Y."  But,  to  my  joy,  every 
detail  of  the  earlier  picture  of  the  country  was  verified. 
Holland  was  still  wonderful, — in  fact,  more  wonderful; 
for  time  only  increased  the  marvel  of  its  not  being  washed 
away  by  the  sea. 

Its  cities  have  grown,  and,  in  some  of  them,  national 
costumes  have  given  place  to  the  conventional  European 
dress  of  the  day.  A  few  of  its  peculiarities  have  been 
brushed  away  by  contact  with  other  nations;  but  it  is 
Holland  still,  and  always  will  be;  full  of  oddity,  courage 
and  industry, — the  pluckiest  little  country  on  earth. 

M.  M.  D. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  HANS  AND  GRETEL 3 

II.  HOLLAND 9 

III.  THE  SILVER  SKATES 20 

IV.  HANS  AND  GRETEL  FIND  A  FRIEND       ....  27 
V.  SHADOWS  IN  THE  HOME 36 

VI.  SUNBEAMS 45 

VII.  HANS  HAS  HIS  WAY 51 

VIII.  INTRODUCING  JACOB  FOOT  AND  HIS  COUSIN    .     .  56 

IX.  THE  FESTIVAL  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS 64 

X.  WHAT  THE  BOYS  SAW  AND  DID  IN  AMSTERDAM    .  75 

XL  BIG  MANIAS  AND  LITTLE  ODDITIES       ....  87 

XII.  ON  THE  WAY  TO  HAARLEM 97 

XIII.  A  CATASTROPHE 102 

XIV.  HANS 107 

XV.  HOMES 114 

XVI.  HAARLEM — THE  BOYS  HEAR  VOICES      ....  123 

XVII.  THE  MAN  WITH  FOUR  HEADS 131 

XVIII.  FRIENDS  IN  NEED 138 

XIX.  ON  THE  CANAL 147 

XX.  JACOB  FOOT  CHANGES  THE  PLAN 155 

XXI.  MYNHEER  KLEEF  AND  HIS  BILL  OF  FARE       .     .  165 

XXII.  THE  RED  LION  BECOMES  DANGEROUS  ....  169 

XXIII.  BEFORE  THE  COURT 184 

XXIV.  THE  BELEAGUERED  CITIES 189 

XXV.  LEYDEN 197 

tz 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVI.  THE  PALACE  AND  THE  WOOD 205 

XXVII.  THE  MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  THE  PRINCESS  .     .  209 

XXVIII.  THROUGH  THE  HAGUE 225 

XXIX.  A  DAY  OF  REST     .     . 234 

XXX.  HOMEWARD  BOUND 238 

XXXI.  BOYS  AND  GIRLS 243 

XXXII.  THE  CRISIS 251 

XXXIII.  GRETEL  AND  HILDA 260 

XXXIV.  THE  AWAKENING 269 

XXXV.  BONES  AND  TONGUES 273 

XXXVI.  A  NEW  ALARM 278 

XXXVII.  THE  FATHER'S  RETURN 284 

XXXVIII.  THE  THOUSAND  GUILDERS 290 

XXXIX.  GLIMPSES 297 

XL.  LOOKING  FOR  WORK 302 

XLI.  THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER 309 

XLII.  THE  MYSTERIOUS  WATCH 316 

XLIII.  A  DISCOVERY 326 

XLIV.  THE  RACE 336 

XLV.  JOY  IN  THE  COTTAGE 356 

XLVI.  THE  MYSTERY  OF  THOMAS  HIGGS 366 

XLVII.  BROAD  SUNSHINE 370 

CONCLUSION 377 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Gretel's  new  skates Frontispiece 

FACING  FACE 

There  was  the  rich  burgomaster's  daughter,  Hilda  van  Gleck     .  24 

The  door  slowly  opened;   and  St.  Nicholas,  in  full  array,  stood 

before  them 70 

The  Aanspreeker 124 

Poor  frightened  Gretel !     She  was  not  thinking  of  them,  though 

their  merry  laughter  floated  lightly  toward  her 262 

"I  have  kept  it  ever  since,  father" 288 

Finding  the  long-lost  treasure 314 

"  You  may  believe  him  there,"  cried  the  dame.  ...     "  Hans  is 

like  a  rock,  when  once  he  decides" 374 


HANS  BRINKER 

OR 

THE  SILVER  SKATES 


HANS   AND   GRETEL 

ON  a  bright  December  morning  long  ago,  two  poorly 
clad  children  were  kneeling  upon  the  bank  of  a  frozen 
canal  in  Holland. 

The  sun  had  not  yet  appeared;  but  the  gray  sky  was 
parted  near  the  horizon,  and  its  edges  shone  crimson 
with  the  coming  day.  Most  of  the  good  Hollanders 
were  enjoying  a  placid  morning  nap:  even  Mynheer 
von  Stoppelnoze,  that  worthy  old  Dutchman,  was  still 
slumbering  "in  beautiful  repose." 

Now  and  then  some  peasant-woman,  poising  a  well- 
filled  basket  upon  her  head,  came  skimming  over  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  canal;  or  a  lusty  boy  skating  to 
his  day's  work  in  the  town,  cast  a  good-natured  grimace 
toward  the  shivering  pair  as  he  flew  along. 

Meanwhile,  with  many  a  vigorous  puff  and  pull,  the 
brother  and  sister,  for  such  they  were,  seemed  to  be  fast- 
ening something  upon  their  feet, — not  skates,  certainly, 
but  clumsy  pieces  of  wood  narrowed  and  smoothed  at 


4  :  HANS  DRINKER 

their  lower  edge,  and  pierced  with  holes,  through  which 
were  threaded  strings  of  raw-hide. 

These  queer-looking  affairs  had  been  made  by  the  boy 
Hans.  His  mother  was  a  poor  peasant-woman,  too  poor 
to  even  think  of  such  a  thing  as  buying  skates  for  her 
little  ones.  Rough  as  these  were,  they  had  afforded  the 
children  many  a  happy  hour  upon  the  ice;  and  now,  as 
with  cold,  red  fingers,  our  young  Hollanders  tugged  at 
the  strings,  their  solemn  faces  bending  closely  over  their 
knees,  no  vision  of  impossible  iron  runners  came  to  dull 
the  satisfaction  glowing  within. 

In  a  moment  the  boy  arose,  and  with  a  pompous 
swing  of  the  arms,  and  a  careless  "Come  on,  Gretel!" 
glided  easily  across  the  canal. 

"Ah,  Hans!"  called  his  sister,  plaintively,  "this  foot 
is  not  well  yet.  The  strings  hurt  me  on  last  market-day; 
and  now  I  cannot  bear  them  tied  in  the  same  place." 

"Tie  them  higher  up,  then,"  answered  Hans,  as,  with- 
out looking  at  her,  he  performed  a  wonderful  cat's-cradle 
step  on  the  ice. 

"How  can  I  ?    The  string  is  too  short." 

Giving  vent  to  a  good-natured  Dutch  whistle,  the 
English  of  which  was,  that  girls  were  troublesome  crea- 
tures, he  steered  toward  her. 

"You  are  foolish  to  wear  such  shoes,  Gretel,  when  you 
have  a  stout  leather  pair.  Your  klompen1  would  be  bet- 
ter than  these." 

1  Wooden  shoes. 


HANS  AND  GRETEL  5 

"Why,  Hans  !  Do  you  forget  ?  The  father  threw  my 
beautiful  new  shoes  in  the  fire.  Before  I  knew  what  he 
had  done,  they  were  all  curled  up  in  the  midst  of  the 
burning  peat.  I  can  skate  with  these,  but  not  with  my 
^yooden  ones.  Be  careful  now — " 

Hans  had  taken  a  string  from  his  pocket.  Humming 
a  tune  as  he  knelt  beside  her,  he  proceeded  to  fasten 
Gretel's  skate  with  all  the  force  of  his  strong  young  arm. 

"Oh,  oh  !"  she  cried  in  real  pain. 

With  an  impatient  jerk,  Hans  unwound  the  string. 
He  would  have  cast  it  upon  the  ground  in  true  big- 
brother  style,  had  he  not  just  then  spied  a  tear  trickling 
down  his  sister's  cheek. 

"I'll  fix  it,  never  fear,"  he  said  with  sudden  tender- 
ness; "but  we  must  be  quick.  The  mother  will  need  us 


soon." 


Then  he  glanced  inquiringly  about  him,  first  at  the 
ground,  next  at  some  bare  willow-branches  above  his 
head,  and  finally  at  the  sky,  now  gorgeous  with  streaks 
of  blue,  crimson  and  gold. 

Finding  nothing  in  any  of  these  localities  to  meet  his 
need,  his  eye  suddenly  brightened,  as,  with  the  air  of  a 
fellow  who  knew  what  he  was  about,  he  took  off  his 
cap,  and,  removing  the  tattered  lining,  adjusted  it  in  a 
smooth  pad  over  the  top  of  Gretel's  aching  foot. 

"Now,"  he  cried  triumphantly,  at  the  same  time  ar- 
ranging the  strings  as  briskly  as  his  benumbed  fingers 
would  allow,  "can  you  bear  some  pulling?*' 


6  HANS  BRINKER 

Gretel  drew  up  her  lips  as  if  to  say,  "Hurt  away," 
but  made  no  further  response. 

In  another  moment  they  were  laughing  together,  as, 
hand  in  hand,  they  flew  along  the  canal,  never  thinking 
whether  the  ice  would  bear  or  not;  for  in  Holland  ice 
is  generally  an  all-winter  affair.  It  settles  itself  upon 
the  water  in  a  determined  kind  of  way;  and,  so  far  from 
growing  thin  and  uncertain  every  time  the  sun  is  a  little 
severe  upon  it,  it  gathers  its  forces  day  by  day,  and 
flashes  defiance  to  every  beam. 

Presently  squeak,  squeak !  sounded  something  beneath 
Hans'  feet.  Next  his  strokes  grew  shorter,  ending  oft- 
times  with  a  jerk,  and,  finally,  he  lay  sprawling  upon 
the  ice,  kicking  against  the  air  with  many  a  fantastic 
flourish. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Gretel,  "that  was  a  fine  tumble." 
But  a  tender  heart  was  beating  under  her  coarse  blue 
jacket;  and,  even  as  she  laughed,  she  came,  with  a 
graceful  sweep,  close  to  her  prostrate  brother. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Hans  ?  Oh,  you  are  laughing !  Catch 
me  now!"  And  she  darted  away,  shivering  no  longer, 
but  with  cheeks  all  aglow  and  eyes  sparkling  with  fun. 

Hans  sprang  to  his  feet  and  started  in  brisk  pursuit; 
but  it  was  no  easy  thing  to  catch  Gretel.  Before  she 
had  travelled  very  far,  her  skates,  too,  began  to  squeak. 

Believing  that  discretion  was  the  better  part  of  valor, 
she  turned  suddenly  and  skated  into  her  pursuer's  arms. 

"Ha,  ha!     I've  caught  you!"  cried  Hans. 


HANS  AND  GRETEL  7 

"Ha,  ha!  I  caught  you"  she  retorted,  struggling  to 
free  herself. 

A  boy  and  a  girl  whom  they  knew  came  skating  toward 
them. 

Just  then  a  voice  was  heard  calling,  "Hans  !     Gretel  I" 

"It's  the  mother,"  said  Hans,  looking  solemn  in  an 
instant. 

By  this  time  the  canal  was  gilded  with  sunlight.  The 
pure  morning  air  was  very  delightful,  and  skaters  were 
gradually  increasing  in  numbers.  It  was  hard  to  obey 
the  summons.  But  Gretel  and  Hans  were  good  children. 
Without  a  thought  of  yielding  to  the  temptation  to 
linger,  they  pulled  off  their  skates,  leaving  half  the  knots 
still  tied.  Hans,  with  his  great  square  shoulders,  and 
bushy  yellow  hair,  towered  high  above  his  blue-eyed 
little  sister,  as  they  trudged  homeward.  He  was  fifteen 
years  old,  and  Gretel  was  only  twelve.  He  was  a  solid, 
hearty-looking  boy,  with  honest  eyes,  and  a  brow  that 
seemed  to  bear  a  sign,  "goodness  within,"  just  as  the 
little  Dutch  zomerhuis1  wears  a  motto  over  its  portal. 
Gretel  was  lithe  and  quick.  Her  eyes  had  a  dancing 
light  in  them;  and,  while  you  looked  at  her  cheek,  the 
color  paled  and  deepened  just  as  it  does  upon  a  bed  of 
pink-and-white  blossoms  when  the  wind  is  blowing. 

As  soon  as  the  children  turned  from  the  canal,  they 
were  near  their  parents'  cottage.  Their  mother's  tall 
form,  arrayed  in  jacket  and  petticoat  and  close-fitting 

1  Summer-house. 


8  HANS  DRINKER 

cap,  stood,  like  a  picture,  in  the  crooked  frame  of  the 
doorway.  Had  the  cottage  been  a  mile  away,  it  would 
still  have  seemed  near.  In  that  flat  country,  every  ob- 
ject stands  out  plainly  in  the  distance:  the  chickens 
show  as  distinctly  as  the  windmills.  Indeed,  were  it 
not  for  the  dikes,  and  the  high  banks  of  the  canals,  one 
could  stand  almost  anywhere  in  Middle  Holland  with- 
out seeing  a  mound  or  a  ridge  between  the  eye  and  the 
"jumping-ofF  place." 

None  had  better  cause  to  know  the  nature  of  these 
same  dikes  than  Dame  Brinker  and  the  panting  young- 
sters now  running  at  her  call.  But,  before  stating  why, 
let  me  ask  you  to  take  a  rocking-chair  trip  with  me  to 
that  far  country,  where  you  may  see,  perhaps  for  the 
first  time,  some  curious  things  that  Hans  and  Gretel  saw 
every  day. 


II 


HOLLAND 

HOLLAND  is  one  of  the  queerest  countries  under  the 
sun.  It  should  be  called  Odd-land  or  Contrary-land; 
for  in  nearly  everything  it  is  different  from  other  parts 
of  the  world.  In  the  first  place,  a  large  portion  of  the 
country  is  lower  than  the  level  of  the  sea.  Great  dikes, 
or  bulwarks,  have  been  erected,  at  a  heavy  cost  of  money 
and  labor,  to  keep  the  ocean  where  it  belongs.  On  cer- 
tain parts  of  the  coast,  it  sometimes  leans  with  all  its 
weight  against  the  land;  and  it  is  as  much  as  the  poor 
country  can  do  to  stand  the  pressure.  Sometimes  the 
dikes  give  way,  or  spring  a  leak,  and  the  most  disastrous 
results  ensue.  They  are  high  and  wide;  and  the  tops 
of  some  of  them  are  covered  with  buildings  and  trees. 
They  have  even  fine  public  roads  upon  them,  from  which 
horses  may  look  down  upon  wayside  cottages.  Often 
the  keels  of  floating  ships  are  higher  than  the  roofs  of 
the  dwellings.  The  stork  clattering  to  her  young  on  the 
house-peak  may  feel  that  her  nest  is  lifted  far  out  of 

9 


io  HANS  DRINKER 

danger;  but  the  croaking  frog  in  neighboring  bulrushes 
is  nearer  the  stars  than  she.  Water-bugs  dart  backward 
and  forward  above  the  heads  of  the  chimney-swallows; 
and  willow-trees  seem  drooping  with  shame,  because  they 
cannot  reach  as  high  as  the  reeds  near  by. 

Ditches,  canals,  ponds,  rivers  and  lakes  are  everywhere 
to  be  seen.  High,  but  not  dry,  they  shine  in  the  sun- 
light, catching  nearly  all  the  bustle  and  the  business, 
quite  scorning  the  tame  fields  stretching  damply  beside 
them.  One  is  tempted  to  ask,  "Which  is  Holland, — the 
shores,  or  the  water?"  The  very  verdure  that  should 
be  confined  to  the  land  has  made  a  mistake,  and  settled 
upon  the  fish-ponds.  In  fact,  the  entire  country  is  a 
kind  of  saturated  sponge,  or,  as  the  English  poet  Butler 
called  it, — 

"A  land  that  rides  at  anchor,  and  is  moored; 
In  which  they  do  not  live,  but  go  aboard." 

Persons  are  born,  live,  and  die,  and  even  have  their 
gardens,  on  canal-boats.  Farmhouses,  with  roofs  like 
great  slouched  hats  pulled  over  their  eyes,  stand  on 
wooden  legs  with  a  tucked-up  sort  of  air,  as  if  to  say, 
"We  intend  to  keep  dry  if  we  can."  Even  the  horses 
wear  a  wide  stool  on  each  hoof  to  lift  them  out  of  the 
mire.  In  short,  the  landscape  everywhere  suggests  a 
paradise  for  ducks.  It  is  a  glorious  country  in  summer 
for  barefooted  girls  and  boys.  Such  wadings !  such 
mimic  ship-sailing!  such  rowing,  fishing  and  swim- 


HOLLAND  ii 

ming !  Only  think  of  a  chain  of  puddles,  where  one 
can  launch  chip  boats  all  day  long,  and  never  make 
a  return  trip !  But  enough.  A  full  recital  would  set 
all  young  America  rushing  in  a  body  toward  the  Zuyder- 
Zee. 

Dutch  cities  seem  at  first  sight  to  be  a  bewildering 
jungle  of  houses,  bridges,  churches  and  ships,  sprouting 
into  masts,  steeples  and  trees.  In  some  cities,  vessels 
are  hitched,  like  horses,  to  their  owners'  door-posts,  and 
receive  their  freight  from  the  upper  windows.  Mothers 
scream  to  Lodewyk  and  Kassy  not  to  swing  on  the 
garden-gate,  for  fear  they  may  be  drowned.  Water- roads 
are  more  frequent  there  than  common  roads  and  rail- 
ways. Water-fences,  in  the  form  of  lazy  green  ditches, 
enclose  pleasure-ground,  polder  and  garden. 

Sometimes  fine  green  hedges  are  seen;  but  wooden 
fences,  such  as  we  have  in  America,  are  rarely  met  with 
in  Holland.  As  for  stone  fences,  a  Dutchman  would  lift 
his  hands  with  astonishment  at  the  very  idea.  There  is 
no  stone  there,  excepting  those  great  masses  of  rock  that 
have  been  brought  from  other  lands  to  strengthen  and 
protect  the  coast.  All  the  small  stones  or  pebbles,  if 
there  ever  were  any,  seem  to  be  imprisoned  in  pave- 
ments, or  quite  melted  away.  Boys  with  strong,  quick 
arms  may  grow  from  pinafores  to  full  beards,  without 
ever  finding  one  to  start  the  water-rings,  or  set  the  rab- 
bits flying.  The  water-roads  are  nothing  less  than  canals 
intersecting  the  country  in  every  direction.  These  are 


12  HANS   BRINKER 

of  all  sizes,  from  the  great  North  Holland  Ship  Canal, 
which  is  the  wonder  of  the  world,  to  those  which  a  boy 
can  leap.  Water-omnibuses,  called  trekschuiteny1  con- 
stantly ply  up  and  down  these  roads  for  the  conveyance 
of  passengers;  and  water-drays,  called  pakschuyten,1  are 
used  for  carrying  fuel  and  merchandise.  Instead  of 
green  country  lanes,  green  canals  stretch  from  field  to 
barn,  and  from  barn  to  garden;  and  the  farms,  or  pol- 
ders, as  they  are  termed,  are  merely  great  lakes  pumped 
dry.  Some  of  the  busiest  streets  are  water;  while  many 
of  the  country  roads  are  paved  with  brick.  The  city 
boats,  with  their  rounded  sterns,  gilded  prows  and  gayly 
painted  sides,  are  unlike  any  others  under  the  sun;  and 
a  Dutch  wagon,  with  its  funny  little  crooked  pole,  is  a 
perfect  mystery  of  mysteries. 

"One  thing  is  clear,"  cries  Master  Brightside,  "the  in- 
habitants need  never  be  thirsty."  But,  no,  Odd-land  is 
true  to  itself  still.  Notwithstanding  the  sea  pushing  to 
get  in,  and  the  lakes  struggling  to  get  out,  and  the  over- 
flowing canals,  rivers  and  ditches,  in  many  districts  there 
is  no  water  fit  to  swallow:  our  poor  Hollanders  must  go 
dry,  or  drink  wine  and  beer,  or  send  far  into  the  inland. 


1  Canal-boats.  Some  of  the  first-named  are  over  thirty  feet  long.  They 
look  like  greenhouses  lodged  on  barges,  and  are  drawn  by  horses  walking  along 
the  bank  of  the  canal.  The  trekschuiten  are  divided  into  two  compartments, 
first  and  second  class;  and,  when  not  too  crowded,  the  passengers  make  them- 
selves quite  at  home  in  them:  the  men  smoke,  the  women  knit  or  sew,  while 
children  play  upon  the  small  outer  deck.  Many  of  the  canal-boats  have  white, 
yellow  or  chocolate-colored  sails.  This  last  color  is  caused  by  a  preparation 
of  tan,  which  is  put  on  to  preserve  them. 


HOLLAND  13 

to  Utrecht  and  other  favored  localities,  for  that  precious 
fluid  older  than  Adam,  yet  young  as  the  morning  dew. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  the  inhabitants  can  swallow  a  shower, 
when  they  are  provided  with  any  means  of  catching  it; 
but  generally  they  are  like  the  albatross-haunted  sailors 
in  Coleridge's  famous  poem  of  "The  Ancient  Mariner": 

they  see 

"Water,  water,  everywhere, 
Nor  any  drop  to  drink!" 

Great  flapping  windmills  all  over  the  country  make  it 
look  as  if  flocks  of  huge  sea-birds  were  just  settling  upon 
it.  Everywhere  one  sees  the  funniest  trees,  bobbed  into 
fantastical  shapes,  with  their  trunks  painted  a  dazzling 
white,  yellow  or  red.  Horses  are  often  yoked  three 
abreast.  Men,  women  and  children  go  clattering  about 
in  wooden  shoes  with  loose  heels;  peasant-girls  who  can- 
not get  beaux  for  love,  hire  them  for  money,  to  escort 
them  to  the  kermis;1  and  husbands  and  wives  lovingly 
harness  themselves  side  by  side  on  the  bank  of  the  canal, 
and  drag  their  pakschuyts  to  market. 

Another  peculiar  feature  of  Holland  is  the  "dune/*  or 
sand-hill.  These  are  numerous  along  certain  portions  of 
the  coast.  Before  they  were  sown  with  coarse  reed- 
grass  and  other  plants,  to  hold  them  down,  they  used  to 
send  great  storms  of  sand  over  the  inland.  So,  to  add 
to  the  oddities,  farmers  sometimes  dig  down  under  the 
surface  to  find  their  soil;  and  on  windy  days  dry  showers 

1  Fair. 


14  HANS   BRINKER 

(of  sand)  often  fall  upon  fields  that  have  grown  wet  under 
a  week  of  sunshine  ! 

In  short,  almost  the  only  familiar  thing  we  Yankees 
can  meet  with  in  Holland  is  a  harvest-song,  which  is 
quite  popular  there,  though  no  linguist  could  translate 
it.  Even  then,  we  must  shut  our  eyes,  and  listen  only 
to  the  tune,  which  I  leave  you  to  guess. 

"Yanker  didee  dudel  down 

Didee  dudel  lawnter; 
Yankee  viver,  voover,  vown, 
Botermelk  und  Tawnter!" 

On  the  other  hand,  many  of  the  oddities  of  Holland 
serve  only  to  prove  the  thrift  and  perseverance  of  the 
people.  There  is  not  a  richer  or  more  carefully  tilled 
garden-spot  in  the  whole  world  than  this  leaky,  springy, 
little  country.  There  is  not  a  braver,  more  heroic  race 
than  its  quiet,  passive-looking  inhabitants.  Few  nations 
have  equalled  it  in  important  discoveries  and  inventions; 
none  has  excelled  it  in  commerce,  navigation,  learning 
and  science,  or  set  as  noble  examples  in  the  promotion 
of  education  and  public  charities;  and  none,  in  propor- 
tion to  its  extent,  has  expended  more  money  and  labor 
upon  public  works. 

Holland  has  its  shining  annals  of  noble  and  illustrious 
men  and  women,  its  grand  historic  records  of  patience, 
resistance  and  victory,  its  religious  freedom,  its  enlight- 
ened enterprise,  its  art,  its  music  and  its  literature.  It 
has  truly  been  called  "the  battle-field  of  Europe:"  as 


HOLLAND  15 

truly  may  we  consider  it  the  asylum  of  the  world;  for 
the  oppressed  of  every  nation  have  there  found  shelter 
and  encouragement.  If  we  Americans — many  of  us 
surely  of  Holland  stock — can  laugh  at  the  Dutch,  and 
call  them  human  beavers,  and  hint  that  their  country 
may  float  off  any  day  at  high  tide,  we  can  also  know 
that  they  have  proved  themselves  heroes,  and  that  their 
country  will  not  float  off  while  there  is  a  Dutchman  left 
to  grapple  it. 

There  are  said  to  be  at  least  ninety-nine  hundred  large 
windmills  in  Holland,  with  sails  ranging  from  eighty  to 
one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long.  They  are  employed 
in  sawing  timber,  beating  hemp,  grinding,  and  many 
other  kinds  of  work;  but  their  principal  use  is  for  pump- 
ing water  from  the  lowlands  into  the  canals,  and  for 
guarding  against  the  inland  freshets  that  so  often  deluge 
the  country.  Their  yearly  cost  is  said  to  be  nearly  ten 
millions  of  dollars.  The  large  ones  are  of  great  power. 
Their  huge,  circular  tower,  rising  sometimes  from  the 
midst  of  factory  buildings,  is  surmounted  with  a  smaller 
one,  tapering  into  a  caplike  roof.  This  upper  tower  is 
encircled  at  its  base  with  a  balcony,  high  above  which 
juts  the  axis,  turned  by  its  four  prodigious  ladder-backed 
sails. 

Many  of  the  windmills  are  primitive  affairs,  seeming 
sadly  in  need  of  Yankee  "improvements;"  but  some  of 
the  new  ones  are  admirable.  They  are  so  constructed 
that,  by  some  ingenious  contrivance,  they  present  their 


16  HANS  BRINKER 

fans,  or  wings,  to  the  wind  in  precisely  the  right  direction 
to  work  with  the  requisite  power.  In  other  words,  the 
miller  may  take  a  nap,  and  feel  quite  sure  that  his  mill 
will  study  the  wind,  and  make  the  most  of  it,  until  he 
wakens.  Should  there  be  but  a  slight  current  of  air, 
every  sail  will  spread  itself  to  catch  the  faintest  breath; 
but,  if  a  heavy  "blow"  should  come,  they  will  shrink  at 
its  touch,  like  great  mimosa-leaves,  and  only  give  it  half 
a  chance  to  move  them. 

One  of  the  old  prisons  of  Amsterdam,  called  the  "Rasp- 
house,"  because  the  thieves  and  vagrants  who  were  con- 
fined there  were  employed  in  rasping  logwood,  had  a  cell 
for  the  punishment  of  lazy  prisoners.  In  one  corner  of 
this  cell  was  a  pump,  and  in  another  an  opening,  through 
which  a  steady  stream  of  water  was  admitted.  The  pris- 
oner could  take  his  choice, — either  to  stand  still  and  be 
drowned;  or  to  work  for  dear  life  at  the  pump,  and  keep 
the  rising  flood  down  until  relieved.  Now,  it  seems  to 
me  that,  throughout  Holland,  Nature  has  introduced 
this  little  diversion  on  a  grand  scale.  The  Dutch  always 
have  been  forced  to  pump  for  their  very  existence,  and 
probably  must  continue  to  do  so  to  the  end  of  time. 

Every  year  millions  of  dollars  are  spent  in  repairing 
dikes  and  regulating  water-levels.  If  these  important 
duties  were  neglected,  the  country  would  be  uninhabita- 
ble. Already  dreadful  consequences,  as  I  have  said,  have 
followed  the  bursting  of  these  dikes.  Hundreds  of  vil- 
lages and  towns  have,  from  time  to  time,  been  buried 


HOLLAND  17 

beneath  the  rush  of  waters;  and  nearly  a  million  of  per- 
sons have  been  destroyed.  One  of  the  most  fearful  in- 
undations ever  known  occurred  in  the  autumn  of  the 
year  1570.  Twenty-eight  terrible  floods  had  before  that 
time  overwhelmed  portions  of  Holland;  but  this  was  the 
most  terrible  of  all.  The  unhappy  country  had  long 
been  suffering  under  Spanish  tyranny;  now,  it  seemed, 
came  the  crowning  point  of  its  troubles.  When  we  read 
Motley's  "Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic/'  we  learn  to  re- 
vere the  brave  people  who  have  endured,  suffered  and 
dared  so  much. 

Mr.  Motley,  in  his  thrilling  account  of  the  great  inun- 
dation, tells  us  how  a  long-continued  and  violent  gale 
had  been  sweeping  the  Atlantic  waters  into  the  North 
Sea,  piling  them  against  the  coasts  of  the  Dutch  prov- 
inces; how  the  dikes,  tasked  beyond  their  strength,  burst 
in  all  directions;  how  even  the  hand-boss,  a  bulwark 
formed  of  oaken  piles,  braced  with  iron,  moored  with 
heavy  anchors,  and  secured  by  gravel  and  granite,  was 
snapped  to  pieces  like  packthread;  how  fishing-boats 
and  bulky  vessels,  floating  up  into  the  country,  became 
entangled  among  the  trees,  or  beat  in  the  roofs  and  walls 
of  dwellings;  and  how,  at  last,  all  Friesland  was  con- 
verted into  an  angry  sea.  Multitudes  of  men,  women, 
children,  of  horses,  oxen,  sheep,  and  every  domestic 
animal,  were  struggling  in  the  waves  in  every  direction. 
Every  boat  and  every  article  which  could  serve  as  a  boat 
was  eagerly  seized  upon.  Every  house  was  inundated: 


i8  HANS   BRINKER 

even  the  graveyards  gave  up  their  dead.  The  living  in- 
fant in  his  cradle  and  the  long-buried  corpse  in  his  coffin 
floated  side  by  side.  The  ancient  flood  seemed  about  to 
be  renewed.  Everywhere — upon  the  tops  of  trees,  upon 
the  steeples  of  churches — human  beings  were  clustered, 
praying  to  God  for  mercy,  and  to  their  fellow-men  for 
assistance.  As  the  storm  at  last  was  subsiding,  boats 
began  to  ply  in  every  direction,  saving  those  who  were 
struggling  in  the  water,  picking  fugitives  from  roofs  and 
tree-tops,  and  collecting  the  bodies  of  those  already 
drowned.  No  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  human 
beings  had  perished  in  a  few  hours.  Thousands  upon 
thousands  of  dumb  creatures  lay  dead  upon  the  waters; 
and  the  damage  to  property  was  beyond  calculation. 

Robles,  the  Spanish  governor,  was  foremost  in  noble 
efforts  to  save  life,  and  lessen  the  horrors  of  the  catas- 
trophe. He  had  formerly  been  hated  by  the  Dutch,  be- 
cause of  his  Spanish  or  Portuguese  blood;  but,  by  his 
goodness  and  activity  in  their  hour  of  disaster,  he  won 
all  hearts  to  gratitude.  He  soon  introduced  an  improved 
method  of  constructing  the  dikes,  and  passed  a  law  that 
they  should  in  future  be  kept  up  by  the  owners  of  the  soil. 
There  were  fewer  heavy  floods  from  this  time;  though, 
within  less  than  three  hundred  years,  six  fearful  inunda- 
tions swept  over  the  land. 

In  the  spring  there  is  always  great  danger  of  inland 
freshets,  especially  in  times  of  thaw,  because  the  rivers, 
choked  with  blocks  of  ice,  overflow  before  they  can  dis- 


HOLLAND  19 

charge  their  rapidly  rising  waters  into  the  ocean.  Add 
to  this  the  sea  chafing  and  pressing  against  the  dikes  and 
it  is  no  wonder  that  Holland  is  often  in  a  state  of  alarm. 
The  greatest  care  is  taken  to  prevent  accidents.  Engi- 
neers and  workmen  are  stationed  all  along  in  threatened 
places;  and  a  close  watch  is  kept  up  night  and  day. 
When  a  general  signal  of  danger  is  given,  the  inhabitants 
all  rush  to  the  rescue,  eager  to  combine  against  their 
common  foe.  As,  everywhere  else,  straw  is  supposed  to 
be  of  all  things  the  most  helpless  in  the  water,  of  course 
in  Holland  it  must  be  rendered  the  mainstay  against  a 
rushing  tide.  Huge  straw  mats  are  pressed  against  the 
embankments,  fortified  with  clay  and  heavy  stone;  and, 
once  adjusted,  the  ocean  dashes  against  them  in  vain. 

Raff  Brinker,  the  father  of  Gretel  and  Hans,  had  for 
years  been  employed  upon  the  dikes.  It  was  at  the  time 
of  a  threatened  inundation,  when  in  the  midst  of  a  ter- 
rible storm,  in  darkness  and  sleet,  the  men  were  laboring 
at  a  weak  spot  near  the  Veermyk  sluice,  that  he  fell 
from  the  scaffolding,  and  was  taken  home  insensible. 
From  that  hour  he  never  worked  again.  Though  he 
lived  on,  mind  and  memory  were  gone. 

Gretel  could  not  remember  him  otherwise  than  as  the 
strange,  silent  man  whose  eyes  followed  her  vacantly 
whichever  way  she  turned;  but  Hans  had  recollections 
of  a  hearty,  cheerful-voiced  father,  who  was  never  tired 
of  bearing  him  upon  his  shoulder,  and  whose  careless 
song  still  seemed  echoing  near  when  he  lay  awake  at 
night  and  listened. 


Ill 

THE    SILVER   SKATES 

DAME  BRINKER  earned  a  scanty  support  for  her  family 
by  raising  vegetables,  spinning  and  knitting.  Once  she 
had  worked  on  board  the  barges  plying  up  and  down  the 
canal,  and  had  occasionally  been  harnessed  with  other 
women  to  the  towing-rope  of  a  pakschuyt  plying  between 
Broek  and  Amsterdam.  But  when  Hans  had  grown 
strong  and  large,  he  had  insisted  upon  doing  all  such 
drudgery  in  her  place.  Besides,  her  husband  had  be- 
come so  very  helpless  of  late  that  he  required  her  con- 
stant care.  Although  he  had  not  as  much  intelligence  as 
a  little  child,  he  was  yet  strong  of  arm  and  very  hearty; 
and  Dame  Brinker  had  sometimes  great  trouble  in 
controlling  him.  When  Hans  was  in  the  cottage,  or 
some  kind-hearted  passer-by  came  to  her  assistance  on 
hearing  a  noise  within,  the  poor  vrouw  could  get  on 
very  well;  but,  when  she  was  alone,  it  was  a  different 
matter. 

"Ah,  children !  he  was  so  good  and  steady,"  she  would 
sometimes  say,  "and  as  wise  as  a  lawyer.  Even  the 


20 


THE  SILVER  SKATES  21 

burgomaster  would  stop  to  ask  him  a  question;  and 
now,  alack !  he  doesn't  know  his  wife  and  little  ones. 
You  remember  the  father,  Hans,  when  he  was  himself, — 
a  great  brave  man, — don't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  mother !  He  knew  everything,  and 
could  do  anything  under  the  sun;  and  how  he  would 
sing!  Why,  you  used  to  laugh,  and  say  it  was  enough 
to  set  the  windmills  dancing." 

"So  I  did.  Bless  me!  how  the  boy  remembers! 
Gretel,  child,  take  that  knitting-needle  from  your  father, 
quick, — he'll  get  it  in  his  eyes,  maybe, — and  put  the 
shoe  on  him.  His  poor  feet  are  like  ice  half  the  time; 
but  I  can't  keep  'em  covered,  all  I  can  do."  And  then, 
half  wailing,  half  humming,  Dame  Brinker  would  sit 
down  and  fill  the  low  cottage  with  the  whir  of  her  spin- 
ning-wheel. 

Nearly  all  the  outdoor  work,  as  well  as  the  household 
labor,  was  performed  by  Hans  and  Gretel.  At  certain 
seasons  of  the  year,  the  children  went  out  day  after  day 
to  gather  peat,  which  they  would  stow  away  in  square, 
brick-like  pieces,  for  fuel.  At  other  times,  when  home- 
work permitted,  Hans  rode  the  towing-horses  on  the 
canals,  earning  a  few  stivers1  a  day;  and  Gretel  tended 
geese  for  the  neighboring  farmers. 

Hans  was  clever  at  carving  in  wood;  and  both  he  and 
Gretel  were  good  gardeners.  Gretel  could  sing  and  sew 
and  run  on  great  high,  home-made  stilts  better  than  any 

1 A  stiver  is  worth  about  two  cents  of  our  money. 


22  HANS  BRINKER 

girl  for  miles  around.  She  could  learn  a  ballad  in  five 
minutes,  and  find,  in  its  season,  any  weed  or  flower  you 
could  name.  But  she  dreaded  books;  and  often  the  very 
sight  of  the  figuring-board  in  the  old  schoolhouse  would 
set  her  eyes  swimming.  Hans,  on  the  contrary,  was  slow 
and  steady.  The  harder  the  task,  whether  in  study  or 
daily  labor,  the  better  he  liked  it.  Boys  who  sneered 
at  him  out  of  school,  on  account  of  his  patched  clothes 
and  scant  leather  breeches,  were  forced  to  yield  him  the 
post  of  honor  in  nearly  every  class.  It  was  not  long 
before  he  was  the  only  youngster  in  the  school  who  had 
not  stood  at  least  once  in  the  corner  of  horrors,  where 
hung  a  dreaded  whip,  and  over  it  this  motto: — 

"Leer,  leer !  jou  luigaart,  of  dit  endje  touw  zal  je  leeren !"  l 

It  was  only  in  winter  that  Gretel  and  Hans  could  be 
spared  to  attend  school;  and  for  the  past  month  they 
had  been  kept  at  home  because  their  mother  needed  their 
services.  RafF  Brinker  required  constant  attention;  and 
there  was  black-bread  to  be  made,  and  the  house  to  be 
kept  clean,  and  stockings  and  other  things  to  be  knitted 
and  sold  in  the  market-place. 

While  they  were  busily  assisting  their  mother  on  this 
cold  December  morning,  a  merry  troop  of  girls  and  boys 
came  skimming  down  the  canal.  There  were  fine  skaters 
among  them;  and,  as  the  bright  medley  of  costumes 
flitted  by,  it  looked  from  a  distance  as  though  the  ice 

1  "Learn,  learn,  you  idler!  or  this  rope's  end  shall  teach  you." 


THE  SILVER  SKATES  23 

had  suddenly  thawed,  and  some  gay  tulip-bed  were  float- 
ing along  on  the  current. 

There  was  the  rich  burgomaster's  daughter,  Hilda  van 
Gleck,  with  her  costly  furs  and  loose-fitting  velvet  sack; 
and  near  by  a  pretty  peasant-girl,  Annie  Bouman,  jaunt- 
ily attired  in  a  coarse  scarlet  jacket,  and  a  blue  skirt 
just  short  enough  to  display  the  gray  homespun  hose  to 
advantage.  Then  there  was  the  proud  Rychie  Korbes, 
whose  father,  Mynheer  van  Korbes,  was  one  of  the  lead- 
ing men  of  Amsterdam;  and,  flocking  closely  around 
her,  Carl  Schummel,  Peter  and  Ludwig1  van  Holp,  Jacob 
Foot,  and  a  very  small  boy,  rejoicing  in  the  tremendous 
name  of  Voostenwalbert  Schimmelpenninck.  There  were 
nearly  twenty  other  boys  and  girls  in  the  party;  and  one 
and  all  seemed  full  of  excitement  and  frolic. 

Up  and  down  the  canal,  within  the  space  of  a  half- 
mile,  they  skated,  exerted  their  racing  powers  to  the  ut- 
most. Often  the  swiftest  among  them  was  seen  to  dodge 
from  under  the  very  nose  of  some  pompous  law-giver  or 
doctor,  who,  with  folded  arms,  was  skating  leisurely  to- 
ward the  town;  or  a  chain  of  girls  would  suddenly  break 
at  the  approach  of  a  fat  old  burgomaster,  who,  with 
gold-headed  cane  poised  in  air,  was  puffing  his  way  to 
Amsterdam.  Equipped  in  skates  wonderful  to  behold, 
— from  their  superb  strappings,  and  dazzling  runners 
curving  toward  the  instep  and  topped  with  gilt  balls, — 

1  Ludwig,  Gretel  and  Carl  were  named  after  German  friends.  The  Dutch 
form  would  be  Lodewyk,  Grietje  and  KareL 


24  HANS  BRINKER      . 

he  would  open  his  fat  eyes  a  little  if  one  of  the  maidens 
chanced  to  drop  him  a  courtesy,  but  would  not  dare  to 
bow  in  return,  for  fear  of  losing  his  balance. 

Not  only  pleasure-seekers  and  stately  men  of  note 
were  upon  the  canal.  There  were  work-people,  with 
weary  eyes,  hastening  to  their  shops  and  factories;  mar- 
ket-women with  loads  upon  their  heads;  peddlers  bend- 
ing with  their  packs;  bargemen,  with  shaggy  hair  and 
bleared  faces,  jostling  roughly  on  their  way;  kind-eyed 
clergymen  speeding  perhaps  to  the  bedsides  of  the  dying; 
and,  after  a  while,  groups  of  children,  with  satchels  slung 
over  their  shoulders,  whizzing  past  toward  the  distant 
school.  One  and  all  wore  skates,  excepting,  indeed,  a 
muffled-up  farmer,  whose  queer  cart  bumped  along  on 
the  margin  of  the  canal. 

Before  long  our  merry  boys  and  girls  were  almost  lost 
in  the  confusion  of  bright  colors,  the  ceaseless  motion 
and  the  gleaming  of  skates  flashing  back  the  sunlight. 
We  might  have  known  no  more  of  them,  had  not  the 
whole  party  suddenly  come  to  a  standstill,  and,  group- 
ing themselves  out  of  the  way  of  the  passers-by,  all 
talked  at  once  to  a  pretty  little  maiden,  whom  they 
had  drawn  from  the  tide  of  people  flowing  toward  the 
town. 

"O  Katrinka!"  they  cried  in  a  breath,  "have  you 
heard  of  it  ?  The  race — we  want  you  to  join  !" 

"What  race?"  asked  Katrinka,  laughing.  "Don't  all 
talk  at  once,  please:  I  can't  understand." 


THERE  WAS  THE    RICH   BURGOMASTER'S  DAUGHTER,   HILDA  VAN    GLECK 


THE  SILVER  SKATES  25 

Every  one  panted  and  looked  at  Rychie  Korbes,  who 
was  their  acknowledged  spokeswoman. 

"Why,"  said  Rychie,  "we  are  to  have  a  grand  skat- 
ing-match  on  the  2Oth,  on  Mevrouw1  van  deck's  birth- 
day. It's  all  Hilda's  work.  They  are  going  to  give  a 
splendid  prize  to  the  best  skater." 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  a  half  a  dozen  voices, — "a  beautiful 
pair  of  silver  skates — perfectly  magnificent !  with  oh, 
such  straps  and  silver  bells  and  buckles!" 

"Who  said  they  had  bells  ?"  put  in  the  small  voice  of 
the  boy  with  the  big  name. 

"7  say  so,  Master  Voost,"  replied  Rychie. 

"So  they  have" — "No,  I'm  sure  they  haven't" — 
"Oh  I  how  can  you  say  so?" — "It's  an  arrow" — "And 
Mynheer  van  Korbes  told  my  mother  they  had  bells" — 
came  from  sundry  of  the  excited  group;  but  Mynheer 
Voostenwalbert  Schimmelpenninck  essayed  to  settle  the 
matter  with  a  decisive — 

"Well,  you  don't  any  of  you  know  a  single  thing  about 
it:  they  haven't  a  sign  of  a  bell  on  them;  they — " 

"Oh,  oh  !"  and  the  chorus  of  conflicting  opinion  broke 
forth  again. 

"The  girls'  pair  are  to  have  bells,"  interposed  Hilda, 
quietly;  "but  there  is  to  be  another  pair  for  the  boys, 
with  an  arrow  engraved  upon  the  sides." 

"There!  I  told  you  so!"  cried  nearly  all  the  young- 
sters in  a  breath. 

1  Mrs.,  or  madame  (pronounced  meffrow). 


26  HANS  DRINKER 

Katrinka  looked  at  them  with  bewildered  eyes. 

"Who  is  to  try?"  she  asked. 

"All  of  us,"  answered  Rychie.  "It  will  be  such  fun! 
And  you  must,  too,  Katrinka.  But  it's  school-time  now: 
we  will  talk  it  all  over  at  noon.  Oh,  you  will  join,  of 


course." 


Katrinka,  without  replying,  made  a  graceful  pirouette, 
and — laughing  out  a  coquettish,  "Don't  you  hear  the 
last  bell?  Catch  me!" — darted  off  toward  the  school- 
house,  standing  half  a  mile  away  on  the  canal. 

All  started  pell-mell  at  this  challenge;  but  they  tried 
in  vain  to  catch  the  bright-eyed,  laughing  creature,  who, 
with  golden  hair  streaming  in  the  sunlight,  cast  back 
many  a  sparkling  glance  of  triumph  as  she  floated  onward. 

Beautiful  Katrinka !  Flushed  with  youth  and  health, 
all  life  and  mirth  and  emotion,  what  wonder  thine  image, 
ever  floating  in  advance,  sped  through  one  boy's  dreams 
that  night!  What  wonder  that  it  seemed  his  darkest 
hour,  when,  years  afterward,  thy  presence  floated  away 
from  him  forever ! 


IV 

HANS   AND   GRETEL   FIND   A   FRIEND 

AT  noon  our  young  friends  poured  forth  frem  the 
schoolhouse,  intent  upon  having  an  hour's  practising 
upon  the  canal. 

They  had  skated  but  a  few  moments  when  Carl  Schum- 
mel  said  mockingly  to  Hilda, — 

"There's  a  pretty  pair  just  coming  upon  the  ice  !  The 
little  rag-pickers !  Their  skates  must  have  been  a  pres- 
ent from  the  king  direct." 

"They  are  patient  creatures,"  said  Hilda,  gently.  "It 
must  have  been  hard  to  learn  to  skate  upon  such  queer 
affairs.  They  are  very  poor  peasants,  you  see.  The  boy 
has  probably  made  the  skates  himself." 

Carl  was  somewhat  abashed 

"Patient  they  may  be;  but,  as  for  skating,  they  start 
off  pretty  well,  only  to  finish  with  a  jerk.  They  could 
move  well  to  your  new  staccato  piece,  I  think." 

Hilda  laughed  pleasantly,  and  left  him.  After  join- 
ing a  small  detachment  of  the  racers,  and  sailing  past 

27 


28  HANS   DRINKER 

every  one  of  them,  she  halted  beside  Gretel,  who,  with 
eager  eyes,  had  been  watching  the  sport. 

"What  is  your  name,  little  girl?" 

"Gretel,  my  lady,"  answered  the  child,  somewhat 
awed  by  Hilda's  rank,  though  they  were  nearly  of  the 
same  age;  "and  my  brother  is  called  Hans." 

"Hans  is  a  stout  fellow,"  said  Hilda,  cheerily,  "and 
seems  to  have  a  warm  stove  somewhere  within  him;  but 
you  look  cold.  You  should  wear  more  clothing,  little  one." 

Gretel,  who  had  nothing  else  to  wear,  tried  to  laugh, 
as  she  answered, — 

"I  am  not  so  very  little.     I  am  past  twelve  years  old." 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon !  You  see,  I  am  nearly  four- 
teen, and  so  large  of  my  age  that  other  girls  seem  small 
to  me;  but  that  is  nothing.  Perhaps  you  will  shoot  up 
far  above  me  yet;  not  unless  you  dress  more  warmly, 
though:  shivering  girls  never  grow." 

Hans  flushed  as  he  saw  tears  rising  in  Gretel's  eyes. 

"My  sister  has  not  complained  of  the  cold;  but  this 
is  bitter  weather,  they  say;"  and  he  looked  sadly  upon 
Gretel. 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  Gretel.  "I  am  often  warm,  too 
warm,  when  I  am  skating.  You  are  good,  jujvrouw?  to 
think  of  it." 

"No,  no!"  answered  Hilda,  quite  angry  at  herself. 
"I  am  careless,  cruel;  but  I  meant  no  harm.  I  wanted 

1  Miss,  young  lady  (pronounced  yuffrow).     In  studied  or  polite  address,  it 
would  be  jugorowe  (pronounced  youngfrow). 


HANS  AND  GRETEL  FIND  A  FRIEND     29 

to  ask  you — I  mean — if — "  And  here  Hilda,  coming  to 
the  point  of  her  errand,  faltered  before  the  poorly  clad 
but  noble-looking  children  she  wished  to  serve. 

"What  is  it,  young  lady?"  exclaimed  Hans,  eagerly. 
"If  there  is  any  service  I  can  do;  any — " 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  laughed  Hilda,  shaking  off  her  embar- 
rassment. "I  only  wished  to  speak  to  you  about  the 
grand  race.  Why  do  you  not  join  it  ?  You  both  can 
skate  well;  and  the  ranks  are  free.  Any  one  may  enter 
for  the  prize." 

Gretel  looked  wistfully  at  Hans,  who,  tugging  at  his 
cap,  answered  respectfully, — 

"Ah,  jufvrouw,  even  if  we  could  enter,  we  could  skate 
only  a  few  strokes  with  the  rest.  Our  skates  are  hard 
wood,  you  see"  (holding  up  the  sole  of  his  foot);  "but 
they  soon  become  damp,  and  then  they  stick,  and  trip  us." 

Gretel's  eyes  twinkled  with  fun  as  she  thought  of  Hans' 
mishap  in  the  morning;  but  she  blushed  as  she  faltered 
out  timidly, — 

"Oh,  no !  we  can't  join;  but  may  we  be  there,  my 
lady,  on  the  great  day,  to  look  on  ?" 

"Certainly,"  answered  Hilda,  looking  kindly  into  the 
two  earnest  faces,  and  wishing  from  her  heart  that  she 
had  not  spent  so  much  of  her  monthly  allowance  for  lace 
and  finery.  She  had  but  eight  kwartjes1  left;  and  they 
would  buy  but  one  pair  of  skates,  at  the  furthest. 

1  A  kwartje  is  a  small  silver  coin  worth  one-quarter  of  a  guilder,  or  ten  cents 
in  American  currency. 


30  HANS  DRINKER 

Looking  down  with  a  sigh  at  the  two  pairs  of  feet  so 
very  different  in  size,  she  asked, — 

"Which  of  you  is  the  better  skater?" 

"Gretel,"  replied  Hans,  promptly. 

"Hans,"  answered  Gretel,  in  the  same  breath. 

Hilda  smiled. 

"I  cannot  buy  you  each  a  pair  of  skates,  or  even  one 
good  pair;  but  here  are  eight  kwartjes.  Decide  between 
you  which  stands  the  best  chance  of  winning  the  race 
and  buy  the  skates  accordingly.  I  wish  I  had  enough 
to  buy  better  ones.  Good-by!"  And,  with  a  nod  and 
a  smile,  Hilda,  after  handing  the  money  to  the  elec- 
trified Hans,  glided  swiftly  away  to  rejoin  her  com- 
panions. 

"Jufvrouw,  jufvrouw  van  Gleck!"  called  Hans,  in  a 
loud  tone,  stumbling  after  her  as  well  as  he  could;  for 
one  of  his  skate-strings  was  untied. 

Hilda  turned,  and,  with  one  hand  raised  to  shield  her 
eyes  from  the  sun,  seemed  to  him  to  be  floating  through 
the  air,  nearer  and  nearer. 

"We  cannot  take  this  money,"  panted  Hans,  "though 
we  know  your  goodness  in  giving  it." 

"Why  not,  indeed?"  asked  Hilda,  flushing. 

"Because,"  replied  Hans,  bowing  like  a  clown,  but 
looking  with  the  eye  of  a  prince  at  the  queenly  girl,  "we 
have  not  earned  it." 

Hilda  was  quick-witted.  She  had  noticed  a  pretty 
wooden  chain  upon  Gretel's  neck. 


HANS  AND  GRETEL  FIND  A  FRIEND     31 
Carve  me  a  chain,  Hans,  like  the  one  your  sister 


wears." 


"That  I  will,  lady,  with  all  my  heart.  We  have 
whitewood  in  the  house,  fine  as  ivory.  You  shall  have 
one  to-morrow; "  and  Hans  hastily  tried  to  return  the 
money. 

"No,  no !"  said  Hilda,  decidedly.  "That  sum  will  be 
but  a  poor  price  for  the  chain; "  and  off  she  darted,  out- 
stripping the  fleetest  among  the  skaters. 

Hans  sent  a  long,  bewildered  gaze  after  her.  It  was 
useless,  he  felt,  to  make  any  further  resistance. 

"It  is  right,"  he  muttered,  half  to  himself,  half  to  his 
faithful  shadow,  Gretel.  "I  must  work  hard  every  min- 
ute, and  sit  up  half  the  night,  if  the  mother  will  let  me 
burn  a  candle;  but  the  chain  shall  be  finished.  We  may 
keep  the  money,  Gretel." 

"What  a  good  young  lady!"  cried  Gretel,  clapping  her 
hands  with  delight.  "O  Hans!  was  it  for  nothing  the 
stork  settled  on  our  roof  last  summer  ?  Do  you  remem- 
ber how  the  mother  said  it  would  bring  us  luck,  and 
how  she  cried  when  Janzoon  Kolp  shot  him  ?  And  she 
said  it  would  bring  him  trouble.  But  the  luck  has  come 
to  us,  at  last.  Now,  Hans,  if  mother  sends  us  to  town 
to-morrow,  you  can  buy  the  skates  in  the  market-place." 

Hans  shook  his  head.  "The  young  lady  would  have 
given  us  the  money  to  buy  skates;  but,  if  I  earn  it, 
Gretel,  it  shall  be  spent  for  wool.  You  must  have  a 
warm  jacket." 


32  HANS   BRINKER 

"Oh!"  cried  Gretel,  in  real  dismay.  "Not  buy  the 
skates.  Why,  I  am  not  often  cold.  Mother  says  the 
blood  runs  up  and  down  in  poor  children's  veins,  hum- 
ming, 'I  must  keep  'em  warm;  I  must  keep  'em  warm!' 

"0  Hans!"  she  continued,  with  something  like  a  sob, 
"don't  say  you  won't  buy  the  skates:  it  makes  me  feel 
just  like  crying.  Besides,  I  want  to  be  cold — I  mean 
I'm  real,  awful  warm — so,  now!" 

Hans  looked  up  hurriedly.  He  had  a  true  Dutch  hor- 
ror of  tears,  or  emotion  of  any  kind;  and,  most  of  all, 
he  dreaded  to  see  his  sister's  blue  eyes  overflowing. 

"Now  mind,"  cried  Gretel,  seeing  her  advantage, 
"I'll  feel  awful  if  you  give  up  the  skates.  I  don't  want 
them:  I'm  not  such  a  stingy  as  that.  But  I  want  you 
to  have  them;  and  then,  when  I  get  bigger,  they'll  do 
for  me.  Oh-h !  count  the  pieces,  Hans.  Did  ever  you 
see  so  many  ?" 

Hans  turned  the  money  thoughtfully  in  his  palm. 
Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  longed  so  intensely  for  a 
pair  of  skates;  for  he  had  known  of  the  race,  and  had, 
boylike,  fairly  ached  for  a  chance  to  test  his  powers  with 
the  other  children.  He  felt  confident  that,  with  a  good 
pair  of  steel  runners,  he  could  readily  distance  most  of 
the  boys  on  the  canal.  Then,  too,  Gretel's  argument 
was  so  plausible.  On  the  other  hand,  he  knew  that  she, 
with  her  strong  but  lithe  little  frame,  needed  but  a 
week's  practice  on  good  runners  to  make  her  a  better 
skater  than  Rychie  Korbes,  or  even  Katrinka  Flack. 


HANS  AND  GRETEL  FIND  A  FRIEND     33 

As  soon  as  this  last  thought  flashed  upon  him,  his  re- 
solve was  made.  If  Gretel  would  not  have  the  jacket, 
she  should  have  the  skates. 

"No,  Gretel,"  he  answered  at  last,  "I  can  wait.  Some 
day  I  may  have  money  enough  saved  to  buy  a  fine  pair. 
You  shall  have  these." 

Gretel's  eyes  sparkled;  but,  in  another  instant,  she 
insisted  rather  faintly, — 

"The  young  lady  gave  the  money  to  you,  Hans.  I'd 
be  real  bad  to  take  it." 

Hans  shook  his  head  resolutely  as  he  trudged  on,  caus- 
ing his  sister  to  half  skip  and  half  walk  in  her  effort  to 
keep  beside  him.  By  this  time  they  had  taken  off  their 
wooden  "rockers,"  and  were  hastening  home  to  tell  their 
mother  the  good  news. 

"Oh,  7  know!"  cried  Gretel,  in  a  sprightly  tone. 
"You  can  do  this.  You  can  get  a  pair  a  little  too  small 
for  you,  and  too  big  for  me;  and  we  can  take  turns,  and 
use  them.  Won't  that  be  fine?"  and  Gretel  clapped 
her  hands  again. 

Poor  Hans !  This  was  a  strong  temptation;  but  he 
pushed  it  away  from  him,  brave-hearted  fellow  that  he  was. 

"Nonsense,  Gretel !  You  could  never  get  on  with  a 
big  pair:  you  stumbled  about  with  these  like  a  blind 
chicken,  before  I  curved  off  the  ends.  No:  you  must 
have  a  pair  to  fit  exactly;  and  you  must  practise  every 
chance  you  can  get  until  the  2Oth  comes.  My  little 
Gretel  shall  win  the  silver  skates." 


34  HANS   DRINKER 

Gretel  could  not  help  laughing  with  delight  at  the 
very  idea. 

"Hans,  Gretel!"  called  out  a  familiar  voice. 

"Coming,  mother."  And  they  hastened  toward  the  cot- 
tage, Hans  still  shaking  the  pieces  of  silver  in  his  hand. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  not  a  prouder  nor  a 
happier  boy  in  all  Holland  than  Hans  Drinker,  as  he 
watched  his  sister,  with  many  a  dexterous  sweep,  flying 
in  and  out  among  the  skaters  who  at  sundown  thronged 
the  canal.  A  warm  jacket  had  been  given  her  by  the 
kind-hearted  Hilda;  and  the  burst-out  shoes  had  been 
cobbled  into  decency  by  Dame  Drinker.  As  the  little 
creature  darted  backward  and  forward,  flushed  with  en- 
joyment, and  quite  unconscious  of  the  many  wondering 
glances  bent  upon  her,  she  felt  that  the  shining  runners 
beneath  her  feet  had  suddenly  turned  earth  into  fairy- 
land, while  "Hans,  dear,  good  Hans!"  echoed  itself  over 
and  over  again  in  her  grateful  heart. 

"Dy  den  donder!"  exclaimed  Peter  van  Holp  to  Carl 
Schummel,  "but  that  little  one  in  the  red  jacket  and 
patched  petticoat  skates  well.  Gunst !  she  has  toes  on 
her  heels,  and  eyes  in  the  back  of  her  head.  See  her ! 
It  will  be  a  joke  if  she  gets  in  the  race,  and  beats  Ka- 
trinka  Flack,  after  all." 

"Hush  !  not  so  loud !"  returned  Carl,  rather  sneeringly. 
"That  little  lady  in  rags  is  the  special  pet  of  Hilda  van 
Gleck.  Those  shining  skates  are  her  gift,  if  I  make  no 
mistake." 


HANS  AND  GRETEL   FIND  A  FRIEND     35 

"So,  so!"  exclaimed  Peter,  with  a  radiant  smile;  for 
Hilda  was  his  best  friend.  "She  has  been  at  her  good 
work  there  too  !"  And  Mynheer  van  Holp,  after  cutting 
a  double  8  on  the  ice,  to  say  nothing  of  a  huge  P,  then  a 
jump,  and  an  H,  glided  onward  until  he  found  himself 
beside  Hilda. 

Hand  in  hand,  they  skated  together,  laughingly  at 
first,  then  staidly  talking  in  a  low  tone. 

Strange  to  say,  Peter  van  Holp  soon  arrived  at  a  sud- 
den conviction  that  his  little  sister  needed  a  wooden 
chain  just  like  Hilda's. 

Two  days  afterward,  on  St.  Nicholas  Eve,  Hans,  hav- 
ing burned  three  candle-ends,  and  cut  his  thumb  into  the 
bargain,  stood  in  the  market-place  at  Amsterdam,  buy- 
ing another  pair  of  skates. 


SHADOWS    IN   THE   HOME 

GOOD  Dame  Brinker !  As  soon  as  the  scanty  dinner 
had  been  cleared  away  that  noon,  she  had  arrayed  her- 
self in  her  holiday  attire  in  honor  of  St.  Nicholas.  "It 
will  brighten  the  children,"  she  thought  to  herself;  and 
she  was  not  mistaken.  This  festival  dress  had  been 
worn  very  seldom  during  the  past  ten  years:  before  that 
time  it  had  done  good  service,  and  had  flourished  at 
many  a  dance  and  kermis,  when  she  was  known,  far  and 
wide,  as  the  pretty  Meitje  Klenck.  The  children  had 
sometimes  been  granted  rare  glimpses  of  it  as  it  lay  in 
state  in  the  old  oaken  chest.  Faded  and  threadbare  as 
it  was,  it  was  gorgeous  in  their  eyes,  with  its  white  linen 
tucker,  now  gathered  to  her  plump  throat,  and  vanishing 
beneath  the  trim  bodice  of  blue  homespun,  and  its  red- 
dish brown  skirt  bordered  with  black.  The  knitted 
woollen  mitts,  and  the  dainty  cap  showing  her  hair, 
which  generally  was  hidden,  made  her  seem  almost  like 
a  princess  to  Gretel;  while  Master  Hans  grew  staid  and 

well-behaved  as  he  gazed. 

36 


SHADOWS  IN  THE  HOME  37 

Soon  the  little  maid,  while  braiding  her  own  golden 
tresses,  fairly  danced  around  her  mother  in  an  ecstasy 
of  admiration. 

"O  mother,  mother,  mother!  how  pretty  you  are! 
Look,  Hans!  isn't  it  just  like  a  picture?" 

"Just  like  a  picture,"  assented  Hans,  cheerfully, — 
"just  like  a  picture;  only  I  don't  like  those  stocking 
things  on  the  hands." 

"Not  like  the  mitts,  Brother  Hans !  why,  they're  very 
important.  See,  they  cover  up  all  the  red.  O  mother! 
how  white  your  arm  is  where  the  mitt  leaves  off! — it's 
whiter  than  mine,  oh,  ever  so  much  whiter!  I  do  de- 
clare, mother,  the  bodice  is  tight  for  you.  You're  grow- 
ing; you're  surely  growing!" 

"This  was  made  long  ago,  lovey,  when  I  was  not 
much  thicker  about  the  waist  than  a  churn-dasher," 
said  Dame  Brinker,  adding,  "And  how  do  you  like  the 
cap  ?"  as  she  turned  her  head  from  side  to  side. 

"Oh,  ever  so  much,  mother !"  said  Gretel.  "It's  beau- 
tiful!  See,  the  father  is  looking!" 

Was  the  father  looking  ?  Alas !  only  with  a  dull  stare. 
His  vrouw  turned  toward  him  with  a  start,  a  question- 
ing sparkle  in  her  eye.  The  bright  look  died  away  in 
an  instant. 

"No,  no,"  she  sighed:  "he  sees  nothing.  Come, 
Hans,"  (and  the  smile  crept  faintly  back  again,)  "don't 
stand  gaping  at  me  all  day,  and  the  new  skates  waiting 
for  you  at  Amsterdam." 


38  HANS  DRINKER 

"Ah,  mother!"  he  answered,  "you  need  many  things. 
Why  should  I  buy  skates  ?" 

"Nonsense,  child !  The  money  was  given  to  you  on 
purpose,  or  the  work  was — it's  all  the  same  thing.  Go 
while  the  sun  is  high." 

"Yes;  and  hurry  back,  Hans!"  laughed  Gretel. 
"We'll  race  on  the  canal  to-night,  if  the  mother  lets  us." 

At  the  very  threshold  he  turned  to  say,  "Your  spin- 
ning-wheel wants  a  new  treadle,  mother." 

"You  can  make  it,  Hans." 

"So  I  can.  That  will  take  no  money.  But  you  need 
feathers  and  wool  and  meal,  and — " 

"There,  there !  that  will  do.  Your  silver  cannot  buy 
everything.  Ah,  Hans !  if  our  stolen  money  would  but 
come  back  on  this  bright  St.  Nicholas'  Eve,  how  glad  we 
would  be  !  Only  last  night,  I  prayed  to  the  good  saint — ' 

"Mother!"  interrupted  Hans,  in  dismay. 

"Why  not,  Hans  ?  Shame  on  you  to  reproach  me  for 
that !  I'm  as  true  a  Protestant,  in  sooth,  as  any  fine 
lady  that  walks  into  church;  but  it's  no  wrong  to  turn 
sometimes  to  the  good  St.  Nicholas.  Tut !  It's  a  likely 
story  if  one  can't  do  that,  without  one's  children  flaring 
up  at  it,  and  he  the  boys'  and  girls'  own  saint.  Hoot ! 
mayhap  the  colt  is  a  steadier  horse  than  the  mare?" 

Hans  knew  his  mother  too  well  to  oppose  her  when 
her  voice  quickened  and  sharpened  as  it  often  did  when 
she  spoke  of  the  missing  money;  so  he  said  gently, — 

"And  what  did  you  ask  of  good  St.  Nicholas,  mother  ?" 


SHADOWS  IN  THE  HOME  39 

"Why,  never  to  give  the  thieves  a  wink  of  sleep  till 
they  brought  it  back,  to  be  sure,  if  he's  power  to  do  such 
things,  or  else  to  brighten  our  wits  that  we  might  find  it 
ourselves.  Not  a  sight  have  I  had  of  it  since  the  day 
before  the  dear  father  was  hurt,  as  you  well  know,  Hans." 

"That  I  do,  mother,"  he  answered  sadly,  "though  you 
have  almost  pulled  down  the  cottage  in  searching." 

"Ay;  but  it  was  of  no  use,"  moaned  the  dame. 
"'Riders  make  best  finders/" 

Hans  started.  "Do  you  think  the  father  could  tell 
aught?"  he  asked  mysteriously. 

"Ay,  indeed,"  said  Dame  Brinker,  nodding  her  head. 
"I  think  so;  but  that  is  no  sign.  I  never  hold  the  same 
belief  in  the  matter  two  days.  Mayhap  the  father  paid 
it  off  for  the  great  silver  watch  we  have  been  guarding 
since  that  day.  But,  no,  I'll  never  believe  it." 

"The  watch  was  not  worth  a  quarter  of  the  money, 
mother." 

"No,  indeed  !  And  your  father  was  a  shrewd  man  up 
to  the  last  moment.  He  was  too  steady  and  thrifty  for 
silly  doings." 

"Where  did  the  watch  come  from,  I  wonder,"  mut- 
tered Hans,  half  to  himself. 

Dame  Brinker  shook  her  head,  and  looked  sadly  to- 
ward her  husband,  who  sat  staring  blankly  at  the  floor. 
Gretel  stood  near  him,  knitting. 

"That  we  shall  never  know,  Hans.  I  have  shown  it 
to  the  father  many  a  time;  but  he  does  not  know  it 


40  HANS  DRINKER 

from  a  potato.  When  he  came  in  that  dreadful  night 
to  supper,  he  handed  the  watch  to  me,  and  told  me  to 
take  good  care  of  it  until  he  asked  for  it  again.  Just 
as  he  opened  his  lips  to  say  more,  Broom  Klatterboost 
came  flying  in  with  word  that  the  dike  was  in  danger. 
Ah !  the  waters  were  terrible  that  holy  Pinxter-week. 
My  man,  alack !  caught  up  his  tools,  and  ran  out.  That 
was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  him  in  his  right  mind.  He 
was  brought  in  again  by  midnight,  nearly  dead,  with 
his  poor  head  all  bruised  and  cut.  The  fever  passed 
off"  in  time,  but  never  the  dulness:  that  grew  worse  every 
day.  We  shall  never  know." 

Hans  had  heard  all  this  before.  More  than  once  he 
had  seen  his  mother,  in  hours  of  sore  need,  take  the 
watch  from  its  hiding-place,  half  resolved  to  sell  it:  but 
she  had  always  conquered  the  temptation. 

"No,  Hans!"  she  would  say,  "we  must  be  nearer 
starving  than  this  before  we  turn  faithless  to  the  father." 

A  memory  of  some  such  scene  came  to  the  boy's  mind 
now;  for,  after  giving  a  heavy  sigh,  and  filliping  a  crumb 
of  wax  at  Gretel  across  the  table,  he  said,— 

"Ay,  mother,  you  have  done  bravely  to  keep  it:  many 
a  one  would  have  tossed  it  off  for  gold  long  ago." 

"And  more  shame  for  them!"  exclaimed  the  dame, 
indignantly.  "7  would  not  do  it.  Besides,  the  gentry 
are  so  hard  on  us  poor  folks,  that  if  they  saw  such  a 
thing  in  our  hands,  even  if  we  told  all,  they  might  sus- 
pect the  father — " 


4 

SHADOWS  IN  THE  HOME  41 

Hans  flushed  angrily. 

"They  would  not  dare  to  say  such  a  thing,  mother! 
If  they  did,  I'd—" 

He  clinched  his  fist,  and  seemed  to  think  that  the 
rest  of  his  sentence  was  too  terrible  to  utter  in  her  pres- 
ence. 

Dame  Brinker  smiled  proudly  through  her  tears  at 
this  interruption. 

"Ah,  Hans !  thou  'rt  a  true,  brave  lad.  We  will  never 
part  company  with  the  watch.  In  his  dying  hour  the 
dear  father  might  wake,  and  ask  for  it." 

"Might  wake,  mother!"  echoed  Hans, — "wake — and 
know  us  ?" 

"Ay,  child,"  almost  whispered  his  mother:  "such 
things  have  been." 

By  this  time  Hans  had  nearly  forgotten  his  proposed 
errand  to  Amsterdam.  His  mother  had  seldom  spoken 
so  familiarly  with  him.  He  felt  himself  now  to  be  not 
only  her  son,  but  her  friend,  her  adviser. 

"You  are  right,  mother.  We  must  never  give  up  the 
watch.  For  the  father's  sake,  we  will  guard  it  always. 
The  money,  though,  may  come  to  light  when  we  least 
expect  it." 

"Never!"  cried  Dame  Brinker,  taking  the  last  stitch 
from  her  needle  with  a  jerk,  and  laying  the  unfinished 
knitting  heavily  upon  her  lap.  "There  is  no  chance. 
One  thousand  guilders — and  all  gone  in  a  day !  One 
thousand  guilders  !  Oh  !  what  ever  did  become  of  them  ? 


42  HANS   DRINKER 

If  they  went  in  an  evil  way,  the  thief  would  have  con- 
fessed by  this  on  his  dying  bed:  he  would  not  dare  to 
die  with  such  guilt  on  his  soul." 

"He  may  not  be  dead  yet,"  said  Hans,  soothingly: 
"any  day  we  may  hear  of  him." 

"Ah,  child!"  she  said  in  a  changed  tone,  "what  thief 
would  ever  have  come  here  ?  It  was  always  neat  and 
clean,  thank  God  !  but  not  fine;  for  the  father  and  I 
saved  and  saved,  that  we  might  have  something  laid  by. 
'Little  and  often  soon  fills  the  pouch/  We  found  it  so 
in  truth:  besides,  the  father  had  a  goodly  sum  already, 
for  service  done  to  the  Heernocht  lands  at  the  time  of 
the  great  inundation.  Every  week  we  had  a  guilder  left 
over,  sometimes  more;  for  the  father  worked  extra 
hours,  and  could  get  high  pay  for  his  labor.  Every 
Saturday  night  we  put  something  by,  except  the  time 
when  you  had  the  fever,  Hans,  and  when  Gretel  came. 
At  last  the  pouch  grew  so  full  that  I  mended  an  old 
stocking,  and  commenced  again.  Now  that  I  look  back, 
it  seems  that  the  money  was  up  to  the  heel  in  a  few 
sunny  weeks.  There  was  great  pay  in  those  days,  if  a 
man  was  quick  at  engineer  work.  The  stocking  went 
on  filling  with  copper  and  silver,  ay,  and  gold.  You 
may  well  open  your  eyes,  Gretel.  I  used  to  laugh,  and 
tell  the  father  it  was  not  for  poverty  I  wore  my  old  gown. 
And  the  stocking  went  on  filling,  so  full,  that  sometimes, 
when  I  woke  at  night,  I'd  get  up,  soft  and  quiet,  and  go 
feel  it  in  the  moonlight.  Then,  on  my  knees,  I  would 


SHADOWS  IN  THE  HOME  43 

thank  our  Lord  that  my  little  ones  could  in  time  get 
good  learning,  and  that  the  father  might  rest  from  labor 
in  his  old  age.  Sometimes,  at  supper,  the  father  and  I 
would  talk  about  a  new  chimney,  and  a  good  winter- 
room  for  the  cow;  but  my  man,  forsooth,  had  finer  plans 
even  than  that.  'A  big  sail,'  says  he,  'catches  the  wind: 
we  can  do  what  we  will  soon/  and  then  we  would  sing 
together  as  I  washed  my  dishes.  Ah,  'a  smooth  sea 
makes  an  easy  rudder/  Not  a  thing  vexed  me  from 
morning  till  night.  Every  week  the  father  would  take 
out  the  stocking,  and  drop  in  the  money,  and  laugh, 
and  kiss  me,  as  we  tied  it  up  together. — Up  with  you, 
Hans!  there  you  sit  gaping,  and  the  day  a-wasting!" 
added  Dame  Brinker,  tartly,  blushing  to  find  that  she 
had  been  speaking  too  freely  to  her  boy.  "It's  high 
time  you  were  on  your  way." 

Hans  had  seated  himself,  and  was  looking  earnestly 
into  her  face.  He  arose,  and,  in  almost  a  whisper, 
asked, — 

"Have  you  ever  tried,  mother?" 

She  understood  him. 

"Yes,  child,  often.  But  the  father  only  laughs;  or 
he  stares  at  me  so  strange,  I  am  glad  to  ask  no  more. 
When  you  and  Gretel  had  the  fever  last  winter,  and  our 
bread  was  nearly  gone,  and  I  could  earn  nothing,  for 
fear  you  would  die  while  my  face  was  turned,  oh,  I  tried 
then !  I  smoothed  his  hair,  and  whispered  to  him  soft 
as  a  kitten,  about  the  money, — where  it  was,  who  had 


44  HANS   BRINKER 

it  ?  Alack !  he  would  pick  at  my  sleeve,  and  whisper 
gibberish  till  my  blood  ran  cold.  At  last,  while  Gretel 
lay  whiter  than  snow,  and  you  were  raving  on  the  bed, 
I  screamed  to  him, — it  seemed  as  if  he  must  hear  me, — 
'Raff,  where  is  our  money  ?  Do  you  know  aught  of  the 
money,  Raff? — the  money  in  the  pouch  and  the  stock- 
ing, in  the  big  chest  ?'  But  I  might  as  well  have  talked 
to  a  stone:  I  might  as — 

The  mother's  voice  sounded  so  strangely,  and  her  eye 
was  so  bright,  that  Hans,  with  a  new  anxiety,  laid  his 
hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Come,  mother,"  he  said,  "let  us  try  to  forget  this 
money.  I  am  big  and  strong:  Gretel,  too,  is  very  quick 
and  willing.  Soon  all  will  be  prosperous  with  us  again. 
Why,  mother !  Gretel  and  I  would  rather  see  thee  bright 
and  happy  than  to  have  all  the  silver  in  the  world. 
Wouldn't  we,  Gretel?" 

"The  mother  knows  it,"  said  Gretel,  sobbing. 


VI 

SUNBEAMS 

DAME  BRINKER  was  startled  at  her  children's  emotion, 
— glad,  too,  for  it  proved  how  loving  and  true  they 
were. 

Beautiful  ladies  in  princely  homes  often  smile  sud- 
denly and  sweetly,  gladdening  the  very  air  around  them; 
but  I  doubt  if  their  smile  be  more  welcome  in  God's 
sight  than  that  which  sprang  forth  to  cheer  the  roughly 
clad  boy  and  girl  in  the  humble  cottage.  Dame  Brinker 
felt  that  she  had  been  selfish.  Blushing  and  brighten- 
ing, she  hastily  wiped  her  eyes,  and  looked  upon  them 
as  only  a  mother  can. 

"Hoity,  toity!  Pretty  talk  we're  having,  and  St. 
Nicholas  Eve  almost  here !  What  wonder  the  yarn 
pricks  my  fingers!  Come,  Gretel,  take  this  cent;1  and, 
while  Hans  is  trading  for  the  skates,  you  can  buy  a 
waffle  in  the  market-place." 

"Let  me  stay  home  with  you,  mother,"  said  Gretel, 

1  The  Dutch  cent  is  worth  less  than  half  of  an  American  cent. 
45 


46  HANS  BRINKER 

looking  up  with  eyes  that  sparkled  through  their  tears. 
"Hans  will  buy  me  the  cake." 

"As  you  will,  child.  And,  Hans — wait  a  moment. 
Three  turns  of  the  needle  will  finish  this  toe;  and  then 
you  may  have  as  good  a  pair  of  hose  as  ever  was  knitted 
(owning  the  yarn  is  a  grain  too  sharp)  to  sell  to  the  ho- 
sier on  the  Heireen  Gracht.1  That  will  give  us  three 
quarter-guilders,  if  you  make  good  trade;  and,  as  it's 
right  hungry  weather,  you  may  buy  four  waffles.  We'll 
keep  the  Feast  of  St.  Nicholas,  after  all." 

Gretel  clapped  her  hands.  "That  will  be  fine  !  Annie 
Bouman  told  me  what  grand  times  they  will  have  in 
the  big  houses  to-night.  But  we  shall  be  merry  too. 
Hans  will  have  beautiful  new  skates, — and  then  there'll 
be  the  waffles !  Oh-h !  Don't  break  them,  Brother 
Hans.  Wrap  them  well,  and  button  them  under  your 
jacket  very  carefully." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Hans,  quite  gruff  with  pleasure 
and  importance. 

"O  mother!"  cried  Gretel,  in  high  glee,  "soon  you  will 
be  busied  with  the  father,  and  now  you  are  only  knit- 
ting. Do  tell  us  all  about  St.  Nicholas." 

Dame  Brinker  laughed  to  see  Hans  hang  up  his  hat, 
and  prepare  to  listen.  "Nonsense,  children!"  she  said. 
"I  have  told  it  to  you  often." 

"Tell  us  again!  oh,  do  tell  us  again!"  cried  Gretel, 
throwing  herself  upon  the  wonderful  wooden  bench  that 

1  A  street  in  Amsterdam. 


SUNBEAMS  47 

her  brother  had  made  on  the  mother's  last  birthday. 
Hans,  not  wishing  to  appear  childish,  and  yet  quite  will- 
ing to  hear  the  story,  stood  carelessly  swinging  his  skates 
against  the  fireplace. 

"Well,  children,  you  shall  hear  it;  but  we  must  never 
waste  the  daylight  again  in  this  way.  Pick  up  your 
ball,  Gretel,  and  let  your  sock  grow  as  I  talk.  Opening 
your  ears  need  not  shut  your  fingers.  St.  Nicholas,  you 
must  know,  is  a  wonderful  saint.  He  keeps  his  eye  open 
for  the  good  of  sailors;  but  he  cares  most  of  all  for  boys 
and  girls.  Well,  once  upon  a  time,  when  he  was  living 
on  the  earth,  a  merchant  of  Asia  sent  his  three  sons  to 
a  great  city,  called  Athens,  to  get  learning." 

"Is  Athens  in  Holland,  mother?"  asked  Gretel. 

"I  don't  know,  child.     Probably  it  is." 

"Oh,  no,  mother!"  said  Hans,  respectfully.  "I  had 
that  in  my  geography  lessons  long  ago.  Athens  is  in 
Greece." 

"Well,"  resumed  the  mother,  "what  matter?  Greece 
may  belong  to  the  king,  for  aught  we  know.  Anyhow, 
this  rich  merchant  sent  his  sons  to  Athens.  While  they 
were  on  their  way,  they  stopped  one  night  at  a  shabby 
inn,  meaning  to  take  up  their  journey  in  the  morning. 
Well,  they  had  very  fine  clothes, — velvet  and  silk,  it 
may  be,  such  as  rich  folks'  children  all  over  the  world 
think  nothing  of  wearing;  and  their  belts,  likewise,  were 
full  of  money.  What  did  the  wicked  landlord  do,  but 
contrive  a  plan  to  kill  the  children,  and  take  their  money 


48  HANS  DRINKER 

and  all  their  beautiful  clothes  himself?  So  that  night, 
when  all  the  world  was  asleep,  he  got  up  and  killed  the 
three  young  gentlemen." 

Gretel  clasped  her  hands  and  shuddered;  but  Hans 
tried  to  look  as  if  killing  and  murder  were  every-day 
matters  to  him. 

"That  was  not  the  worst  of  it,"  continued  Dame 
Drinker,  knitting  slowly,  and  trying  to  keep  count  of 
her  stitches  as  she  talked:  "that  was  not  near  the  worst 
of  it.  The  dreadful  landlord  went  and  cut  up  the  young 
gentlemen's  bodies  into  little  pieces,  and  threw  them 
into  a  great  tub  of  brine,  intending  to  sell  them  for 
pickled  pork." 

"Oh!"  cried  Gretel,  horror-stricken,  though  she  had 
often  heard  the  story  before.  Hans  still  continued  un- 
moved, and  seemed  to  think  that  pickling  was  the  best 
that  could  be  done  under  the  circumstances. 

"Yes,  he  pickled  them;  and  one  might  think  that 
would  have  been  the  last  of  the  young  gentlemen.  Dut 
no.  That  night  St.  Nicholas  had  a  wonderful  vision; 
and  in  it  he  saw  the  landlord  cutting  up  the  merchant's 
children.  There  was  no  need  of  his  hurrying,  you  know, 
for  he  was  a  saint;  but  in  the  morning  he  went  to  the 
inn,  and  charged  the  landlord  with  the  murder.  Then 
the  wicked  landlord  confessed  it  from  beginning  to  end, 
and  fell  down  on  his  knees,  begging  forgiveness.  He  felt 
so  sorry  for  what  he  had  done,  that  he  asked  the  saint 
to  bring  the  young  masters  to  life." 


SUNBEAMS  49 

"And  did  the  saint  do  it?"  asked  Gretel,  delighted, 
well  knowing  what  the  answer  would  be. 

"Of  course  he  did.  The  pickled  pieces  flew  together 
in  a  flash,  and  out  jumped  the  young  gentlemen  from  the 
brine-tub.  They  cast  themselves  at  the  feet  of  St. 
Nicholas,  and  he  gave  them  his  blessing  and — oh  mercy 
on  us  Hans !  it  will  be  dark  before  you  get  back  if  you 
don't  start  this  minute." 

By  this  time  Dame  Brinker  was  almost  out  of  breath, 
and  quite  out  of  commas.  She  could  not  remember 
when  she  had  seen  the  children  idle  away  an  hour  of 
daylight  in  this  manner,  and  the  thought  of  such  luxury 
quite  appalled  her.  By  way  of  compensation,  she  now 
flew  about  the  room  in  extreme  haste.  Tossing  a  block 
of  peat  upon  the  fire,  blowing  invisible  dust  from  the 
table,  and  handing  the  finished  hose  to  Hans,  all  in  an 
instant, — 

"Come,  Hans,"  she  said,  as  her  boy  lingered  by  the 
door,  "what  keeps  thee?" 

Hans  kissed  his  mother's  plump  cheek,  rosy  and  fresh 
yet,  in  spite  of  all  her  troubles.  "My  mother  is  the  best 
in  the  world,  and  I  would  be  right  glad  to  have  a  pair 
of  skates;  but" — and,  as  he  buttoned  his  jacket,  he 
looked,  in  a  troubled  way,  toward  a  strange  figure 
crouching  by  the  hearthstone — "if  my  money  would 
bring  a  meester1  from  Amsterdam  to  see  the  father,  some- 
thing might  yet  be  done." 

1  Doctor  (dokter  in  Dutch)  called  meester  by  the  lower  class. 


50  HANS   BRINKER 

"A  meester  would  not  come,  Hans,  for  twice  that 
money;  and  it  would  do  no  good,  if  he  did.  Ah,  how 
many  guilders  I  once  spent  for  that!  But  the  dear, 
good  father  would  not  waken.  It  is  God's  will.  Go, 
Hans,  and  buy  the  skates." 

Hans  started  with  a  heavy  heart;  but  since  the  heart 
was  young,  and  in  a  boy's  bosom,  it  set  him  whistling 
in  less  than  five  minutes.  His  mother  had  said  "thee" 
to  him;  and  that  was  quite  enough  to  make  even  a  dark 
day  sunny.  Hollanders  do  not  address  each  other  in 
affectionate  intercourse,  as  the  French  and  Germans  do. 
But  Dame  Brinker  had  embroidered  for  a  Heidelberg 
family  in  her  girlhood;  and  she  had  carried  its  "thee" 
and  "thou"  into  her  rude  home,  to  be  used  in  moments 
of  extreme  love  and  tenderness. 

Therefore,  "What  keeps  thee,  Hans?"  sang  an  echo- 
song  beneath  the  boy's  whistling,  and  made  him  feel 
that  his  errand  was  blest. 


VII 

HANS   HAS   HIS   WAY 

BROEK,  with  its  quiet,  spotless  streets,  its  frozen  riv- 
ulets, its  yellow  brick  pavements,  and  bright  wooden 
houses,  was  near  by.  It  was  a  village  where  neatness 
and  show  were  in  full  blossom;  but  the  inhabitants 
seemed  to  be  either  asleep  or  dead. 

Not  a  footprint  marred  the  sanded  paths,  where  peb- 
bles and  sea-shells  lay  in  fanciful  designs.  Every  window- 
shutter  was  closed  as  tightly  as  though  air  and  sun- 
shine were  poison;  and  the  massive  front  doors  were 
never  opened,  except  on  the  occasion  of  a  wedding,  a 
christening  or  a  funeral. 

Serene  clouds  of  tobacco-smoke  were  floating  through 
hidden  apartments;  and  children,  who  otherwise  might 
have  awakened  the  place,  were  studying  in  out-of-the- 
way  corners,  or  skating  upon  the  neighboring  canal.  A 
few  peacocks  and  wolves  stood  in  the  gardens;  but  they 
had  never  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  flesh  and  blood.  They 
were  cut  out  in  growing  box,  and  seemed  guarding  the 

51 


52  HANS  BRINKER 

grounds  with  a  sort  of  green  ferocity.  Certain  lively 
automata — ducks,  women  and  sportsmen — were  stowed 
away  in  summer-houses,  waiting  for  the  springtime, 
when  they  could  be  wound  up,  and  rival  their  owners  in 
animation;  and  the  shining,  tiled  roofs,  mosaic  court- 
yards and  polished  house-trimmings,  flashed  up  a  silent 
homage  to  the  sky,  where  never  a  speck  of  dust  could 
dwell. 

Hans  glanced  toward  the  village,  as  he  shook  his  silver 
kwartjes,  and  wondered  whether  it  were  really  true,  as 
he  had  often  heard,  that  some  of  the  people  of  Broek 
were  so  rich  that  they  used  kitchen  utensils  of  solid  gold. 

He  had  seen  Mevrouw  van  Stoop's  sweet  cheeses  in 
market,  and  he  knew  that  the  lofty  dame  earned  many 
a  bright  silver  guilder  in  selling  them.  But  "did  she 
set  the  cream  to  rise  in  golden  pans  ?  Did  she  use  a 
golden  skimmer  ?  When  her  cows  were  in  winter-quar- 
ters, were  their  tails  really  tied  up  with  ribbons?" 

These  thoughts  ran  through  his  mind  as  he  turned 
his  face  toward  Amsterdam,  not  five  miles  away,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  frozen  Y.1  The  ice  upon  the  canal  was 
perfect;  but  his  wooden  runners,  so  soon  to  be  cast 
aside,  squeaked  a  dismal  farewell,  as  he  scraped  and 
skimmed  along. 

When  crossing  the  Y,  whom  should  he  see  skating 
toward  him,  but  the  great  Dr.  Boekman,  the  most  fa- 
mous physician  and  surgeon  in  Holland  !  Hans  had  never 

1  Pronounced  eye,  an  arm  of  the  Zuyder-Zee. 


HANS  HAS  HIS  WAY  53 

met  him  before;  but  he  had  seen  his  engraved  likeness 
in  many  of  the  shop-windows  of  Amsterdam.  It  was  a 
face  that  one  could  never  forget.  Thin  and  lank,  though 
a  born  Dutchman,  with  stern  blue  eyes,  and  queer, 
compressed  lips,  that  seemed  to  say,  "No  smiling  al- 
lowed," he  certainly  was  not  a  very  jolly  or  sociable 
looking  personage,  nor  one  that  a  well-trained  boy 
would  care  to  accost  unbidden. 

But  Hans  was  bidden,  and  that,  too,  by  a  voice  he 
seldom  disregarded, — his  own  conscience. 

"Here  comes  the  greatest  doctor  in  the  world,"  whis- 
pered the  voice.  "God  has  sent  him.  You  have  no 
right  to  buy  skates,  when  you  might,  with  the  same 
money,  purchase  such  aid  for  your  father. " 

The  wooden  runners  gave  an  exultant  squeak.  Hun- 
dreds of  beautiful  skates  were  gleaming  and  vanishing 
in  the  air  above  him.  He  felt  the  money  tingle  in  his 
fingers.  The  old  doctor  looked  fearfully  grim  and  for- 
bidding. Hans'  heart  was  in  his  throat;  but  he  found 
voice  enough  to  cry  out,  just  as  he  was  passing, — 

"Mynheer  Boekman!" 

The  great  man  halted,  and,  sticking  out  his  thin 
under-lip,  looked  scowlingly  about  him. 

Hans  was  in  for  it  now. 

"Mynheer,"  he  panted,  drawing  close  to  the  fierce- 
looking  doctor,  "I  knew  you  could  be  none  other  than 
the  famous  Boekman.  I  have  to  ask  a  great  favor — " 

"Humph!"  muttered  the  doctor,  preparing  to  skate 


54  HANS   BRINKER 

past  the  intruder.  "Get  out  of  the  way — I've  no  money 
— never  give  to  beggars." 

"I  am  no  beggar,  mynheer/'  retorted  Hans,  proudly, 
at  the  same  time  producing  his  mite  of  silver  with  a 
grand  air.  "I  wish  to  consult  with  you  about  my 
father.  He  is  a  living  man,  but  sits  like  one  dead.  He 
cannot  even  think;  and  his  words  mean  nothing.  But 
he  is  not  sick.  He  fell  on  the  dikes." 

"Hey?  what?"  cried  the  doctor,  beginning  to  listen. 

Hans  told  the  whole  story  in  an  incoherent  way,  dash- 
ing off  a  tear  once  or  twice  as  he  talked,  and  finally  end- 
ing with  an  earnest, — 

"Oh,  do  see  him,  mynheer!  His  body  is  well:  it  is 
only  his  mind.  I  know  this  money  is  not  enough;  but 
take  it,  mynheer.  I  shall  earn  more,  I  know  I  shall. 
Oh,  I  will  toil  for  you  all  my  life,  if  you  will  but  cure 
my  father!" 

What  was  the  matter  with  the  old  doctor  ?  A  bright- 
ness like  sunlight  beamed  from  his  face.  His  eyes  were 
kind  and  moist.  The  hand  that  had  lately  clutched  his 
cane,  as  if  preparing  to  strike,  was  laid  gently  upon 
Hans'  shoulder. 

"Put  up  your  money,  boy,  I  do  not  want  it.  We 
will  see  your  father.  It  is  a  hopeless  case,  I  fear.  How 
long  did  you  say?" 

"Ten  years,  mynheer,"  sobbed  Hans,  radiant  with 
sudden  hope. 

"Ah !    a    bad    case.     But    I    shall    see   him.     Let    me 


HANS   HAS   HIS  WAY  55 

think.  To-day  I  start  for  Leyden,  to  return  in  a  week; 
then  you  may  expect  me.  Where  is  it?" 

"A  mile  south  of  Broek,  mynheer,  near  the  canal. 
It  is  only  a  poor,  broken-down  hut.  Any  of  the  chil- 
dren thereabout  can  point  it  out  to  your  Honor,"  added 
Hans,  with  a  heavy  sigh.  "They  are  all  half  afraid  of 
the  place:  they  call  it  the  ' idiot's  cottage/  ' 

"That  will  do,"  said  the  doctor,  hurrying  on,  with  a 
bright  backward  nod  at  Hans:  "I  shall  be  there.  A 
hopeless  case,"  he  muttered  to  himself;  "but  the  boy 
pleases  me.  His  eye  is  like  my  poor  Laurens.  Con- 
found it!  shall  I  never  forget  that  young  scoundrel?" 
And,  scowling  more  darkly  than  ever,  the  doctor  pur- 
sued his  silent  way. 

Again  Hans  was  skating  toward  Amsterdam,  on  the 
squeaking  wooden  runners;  again  his  fingers  tingled 
against  the  money  in  his  pocket;  again  the  boyish 
whistle  rose  unconsciously  to  his  lips. 

"Shall  I  hurry  home,"  he  was  thinking,  "to  tell  the 
good  news;  or  shall  I  get  the  waffles  and  the  new  skates 
first  ?  Whew !  I  think  I'll  go  on  !" 

And  so  Hans  bought  the  skates. 


VIII 


INTRODUCING   JACOB    FOOT   AND   HIS    COUSIN 

HANS  and  Gretel  had  a  fine  frolic  early  on  that  St. 
Nicholas  Eve.  There  .was  a  bright  moon;  and  their 
mother,  though  she  believed  herself  to  be  without  any 
hope  of  her  husband's  improvement,  had  been  made  so 
happy  at  the  prospect  of  the  meester's  visit,  that  she  had 
yielded  to  the  children's  entreaties  for  an  hour's  skating 
before  bed-time. 

Hans  was  delighted  with  his  new  skates;  and,  in  his 
eagerness  to  show  Gretel  how  perfectly  they  "worked," 
did  many  things  upon  the  ice  that  caused  the  little  maid 
to  clasp  her  hands  in  solemn  admiration.  They  were 
not  alone,  though  they  seemed  quite  unheeded  by  the 
various  groups  assembled  upon  the  canal. 

The  two  Van  Holps  and  Carl  Schummel  were  there, 
testing  their  fleetness  to  the  utmost.  Out  of  four  trials, 
Peter  van  Holp  had  beaten  three  times.  Consequently, 

Carl,  never  very  amiable,  was  in  anything  but  a  good 

56 


JACOB  FOOT  AND  HIS  COUSIN     57 

humor.  He  had  relieved  himself  by  taunting  young 
Schimmelpennick,  who,  being  smaller  than  the  others, 
kept  meekly  near  them,  without  feeling  exactly  like  one 
of  the  party.  But  now  a  new  thought  seized  Carl;  or, 
rather,  he  seized  the  new  thought,  and  made  an  onset 
upon  his  friends. 

"I  say,  boys,  let's  put  a  stop  to  those  young  rag- 
pickers from  the  idiot's  cottage  joining  the  race.  Hilda 
must  be  crazy  to  think  of  it.  Katrinka  Flack  and 
Rychie  Korbes  are  furious  at  the  very  idea  of  racing  with 
the  girl;  and,  for  my  part,  I  don't  blame  them.  As 
for  the  boy,  if  we've  a  spark  of  manhood  in  us,  we  will 
scorn  the  very  idea  of — " 

"Certainly  we  will,"  interposed  Peter  van  Holp,  pur- 
posely mistaking  Carl's  meaning.  "Who  doubts  it  ? 
No  fellow  with  a  spark  of  manhood  in  him  would  refuse 
to  let  in  two  good  skaters,  just  because  they  were  poor." 

Carl  wheeled  about  savagely. 

"Not  so  fast,  master!  And  I'd  thank  you  not  to  put 
words  in  other  people's  mouths.  You'd  best  not  try  it 
again." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  little  Voostenwalbert  Schimmel- 
pennick, delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  fight,  and  sure 
that,  if  it  should  come  to  blows,  his  favorite  Peter  could 
beat  a  dozen  excitable  fellows  like  Carl. 

Something  in  Peter's  eye  made  Carl  glad  to  turn  to  a 
weaker  offender.  He  wheeled  furiously  upon  Voost. 

"What   are  you   shrieking   about,  you  little  weasel  ? 


58  HANS   BRINKER 

You  skinny  herring,  you !  you  little  monkey  with  a 
long  name  for  a  tail!" 

Half  a  dozen  bystanders  and  byskaters  set  up  an  ap- 
plauding shout  at  this  brave  witticism;  and  Carl,  feel- 
ing that  he  had  fairly  vanquished  his  foes,  was  restored 
to  partial  good  humor.  He,  however,  prudently  re- 
solved to  defer  plotting  against  Hans  and  Gretel  until 
some  time  when  Peter  should  not  be  present. 

Just  then  his  friend  Jacob  Foot  was  seen  approach- 
ing. They  could  not  distinguish  his  features  at  first; 
but,  as  he  was  the  stoutest  boy  in  the  neighborhood, 
there  could  be  no  mistaking  his  form. 

"Halloo!  here  comes  Fatty!"  exclaimed  Carl.  "And 
there's  some  one  with  him,  —  a  slender  fellow,  a 
stranger." 

"Ha,  ha!  that's  like  good  bacon,"  cried  Ludwig, — "a 
streak  of  lean  and  a  streak  of  fat." 

"That's  Jacob's  English  cousin,"  put  in  Master  Voost, 
delighted  at  being  able  to  give  the  information.  "That's 
his  English  cousin;  and,  oh,  he's  got  such  a  funny  little 
name ! — Ben  Dobbs.  He's  going  to  stay  with  him  until 
after  the  grand  race." 

All  this  time  the  boys  had  been  spinning,  turning, 
"rolling,"  and  doing  other  feats  upon  their  skates  in  a 
quiet  way,  as  they  talked;  but  now  they  stood  still, 
bracing  themselves  against  the  frosty  air,  as  Jacob  Foot 
and  his  friend  drew  near. 

"This  is  my  cousin,  boys,"  said  Jacob,  rather  out  of 


JACOB  FOOT  AND  HIS  COUSIN  59 

breath, — "Benjamin  Dobbs.  He's  a  John  Bull;  and 
he's  going  to  be  in  the  race." 

All  crowded,  boy-fashion,  about  the  new-comers. 
Benjamin  soon  made  up  his  mind  that  the  Hollanders, 
notwithstanding  their  queer  gibberish,  were  a  fine  set 
of  fellows. 

If  the  truth  must  be  told,  Jacob  had  announced  his 
cousin  as  "Penchamin  Dopps,"  and  called  him  a  "Shon 
Pull;"  but,  as  I  translate  every  word  of  the  conversa- 
tion of  our  young  friends,  it  is  no  more  than  fair  to  mend 
their  little  attempts  at  English.  Master  Dobbs  felt  at 
first  decidedly  awkward  among  his  cousin's  friends. 
Though  most  of  them  had  studied  English  and  French, 
they  were  shy  about  attempting  to  speak  either;  and  he 
made  very  funny  blunders  when  he  tried  to  converse  in 
Dutch.  He  had  learned  that  vrouw  means  "wife;"  and/<z, 
"yes;"  and  spoorweg,  "railway;"  kanaals,  "canals;"  stoom- 
boot,  "steamboat;"  ophaalbruggen,  "drawbridges;"  buiten 
plasten,  "country-seats;"  mynheer,  "mister;"  tweegevegt, 
"duel," or" two-fights -,"  koper,  "copper;" zadel,  "saddle:" 
but  he  could  not  make  a  sentence  out  of  these,  nor  use 
the  long  list  of  phrases  he  had  learned  in  his  "Dutch 
Dialogues."  The  topics  of  the  latter  were  fine,  but  were 
never  alluded  to  by  the  boys.  Like  the  poor  fellow  who 
had  learned  in  "Ollendorff"  to  ask  in  faultless  German, 
"Have  you  seen  my  grandmother's  red  cow  ?"  and,  when 
he  reached  Germany,  discovered  that  he  had  no  occasion 
to  inquire  after  that  interesting  animal,  Ben  found  that 


60  HANS   BRINKER 

his  book  Dutch  did  not  avail  him  as  much  as  he  had 
hoped.  He  acquired  a  hearty  contempt  for  Jan  van  Gorp, 
a  Hollander  who  wrote  a  book  in  Latin  to  prove  that 
Adam  and  Eve  spoke  Dutch;  and  he  smiled  a  knowing 
smile  when  his  Uncle  Foot  assured  him  that  Dutch  "had 
great  likeness  mit  Zinglish;  but  it  vash  much  petter  lan- 
guish, much  petter." 

However,  the  fun  of  skating  glides  over  all  barriers 
of  speech.  Through  this,  Ben  soon  felt  that  he  knew 
the  boys  well;  and,  when  Jacob  (with  a  sprinkling  of 
French  and  English  for  Ben's  benefit)  told  of  a  grand 
project  they  had  planned,  his  cousin  could  now  and 
then  put  in  a  ja,  or  a  nod,  in  quite  5  familiar  way. 

The  project  was  a  grand  one,  and  there  was  to  be  a 
fine  opportunity  for  carrying  it  out;  for,  besides  the 
allotted  holiday  of  the  Festival  of  St.  Nicholas,  four 
extra  days  were  to  be  allowed  for  a  general  cleaning  of 
the  schoolhouse. 

Jacob  and  Ben  had  obtained  permission  to  go  on  a 
long  skating-journey;  no  less  a  one  than  from  Broek 
to  the  Hague,  the  capital  of  Holland, — a  distance  of 
nearly  fifty  miles.1 

"And  now,  boys,"  added  Jacob  when  he  had  told  the 
plan,  "who  will  go  with  us  ?" 

"I  will,  I  will!"  cried  the  boys,  eagerly. 

"And  so  will  I,"  ventured  little  Voostenwalbert. 

1  Throughout  this  narrative,  distances  are  given  according  to  our  standard, 
— the  English  statute  mile  of  5,280  feet.  The  Dutch  mile  is  more  than  four 
times  as  long  as  ours. 


JACOB  FOOT  AND  HIS  COUSIN  61 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Jacob,  holding  his  fat  sides,  and 
shaking  his  puffy  cheeks.  "  You  go  ?  Such  a  little 
fellow  as  you !  Why,  youngster,  you  haven't  left  off 
your  pads  yet!" 

Now,  in  Holland,  very  young  children  wear  a  thin, 
padded  cushion  around  their  heads,  surmounted  with  a 
framework  of  whalebone  and  ribbon,  to  protect  them  in 
case  of  a  fall;  and  it  is  the  dividing-line  between  baby- 
hood and  childhood  when  they  leave  it  off.  Voost  had 
arrived  at  this  dignity  several  years  before;  conse- 
quently Jacob's  insult  was  rather  too  great  for  endur- 
ance. 

"Look  out  what  you  say!"  he  squeaked.  "Lucky  for 
you  when  you  can  leave  off  your  pads.  You're  padded 
all  over!" 

"Ha,  ha!"  roared  all  the  boys  except  Master  Dobbs, 
who  could  not  understand.  "Ha,  ha!"  and  the  good- 
natured  Jacob  laughed  more  than  any. 

"It  ish  my  fat — yaw — he  say  I  bees  pad  mit  fat!" 
he  explained  to  Ben. 

So  a  vote  was  passed  unanimously  in  favor  of  allow- 
ing the  now  popular  Voost  to  join  the  party,  if  his  par- 
ents would  consent. 

"Good-night!"  sang  out  the  happy  youngster,  skating 
homeward  with  all  his  might. 

"Good-night!" 

"We  can  stop  at  Haarlem,  Jacob,  and  show  your 
cousin  the  big  organ,"  said  Peter  van  Holp,  eagerly; 


62  HANS  BRINKER 

"and  at  Leyden,  too,  where  there's  no  end  to  the  sights; 
and  spend  a  day  and  night  at  the  Hague,  for  my  mar- 
ried sister,  who  lives  there,  will  be  delighted  to  see  us; 
and  the  next  morning  we  can  start  for  home." 

"All  right/'  responded  Jacob,  who  was  not  much  of 
a  talker. 

Ludwig  had  been  regarding  his  brother  with  enthusi- 
astic admiration. 

"Hurrah  for  you,  Pete!  It  takes  you  to  make  plans. 
Mother'll  be  as  full  of  it  as  we  are,  when  we  tell 
her  we  can  take  her  love  direct  to  Sister  van  Gend. 
My!  but  it's  cold,"  he  added, — "cold  enough  to  take 
a  fellow's  head  off  his  shoulders.  We'd  better  go 
home." 

"What  if  it  is  cold,  old  tender-skin?"  cried  Carl,  who 
was  busily  practising  a  step  which  he  called  the  "double- 
edge."  "Great  skating  we  should  have  by  this  time,  if 
it  was  as  warm  as  it  was  last  December.  Don't  you 
know  if  it  wasn't  an  extra  cold  winter,  and  an  early  one, 
into  the  bargain,  we  couldn't  go?" 

"I  know  it's  an  extra  cold  night,  anyhow,"  said  Lud- 
wig. "Whew,  I'm  going  home!" 

Peter  van  Holp  took  out  a  bulgy  gold  watch,  and, 
holding  it  toward  the  moonlight  as  well  as  his  benumbed 
fingers  would  permit,  called  out, — 

"Halloo,  it's  nearly  eight  o'clock!  St.  Nicholas  is 
about  by  this  time;  and  I,  for  one,  want  to  see  the 
little  ones  stare.  Good-night!" 


JACOB  FOOT  AND  HIS  COUSIN  63 

"Good-night !"  cried  one  and  all;  and  off  they  started, 
shouting,  singing  and  laughing  as  they  flew  along. 

Where  were  Gretel  and  Hans  ? 

Ah !  how  suddenly  joy  sometimes  comes  to  an  end ! 

They  had  skated  about  an  hour, — keeping  aloof  from 
the  others,  quite  contented  with  each  other;  and  Gretel 
had  exclaimed,  "Ah,  Hans,  how  beautiful,  how  fine,  to 
think  that  we  both  have  skates !  I  tell  you  the  stork 
brought  us  good  luck," — when  they  heard  something. 

It  was  a  scream,  a  very  faint  scream.  No  one  else 
upon  the  canal  observed  it;  but  Hans  knew  its  meaning 
too  well.  Gretel  saw  him  turn  white  in  the  moonlight 
as  he  hastily  tore  off  his  skates. 

"The  father !"  he  cried.  "He  has  frightened  our 
mother;"  and  Gretel  ran  after  him  toward  the  house  as 
hard  as  she  could. 


IX 

THE    FESTIVAL   OF   ST.    NICHOLAS 

WE  all  know  how,  before  the  Christmas-tree  began  to 
flourish  in  the  home-life  of  our  country,  a  certain  "right 
jolly  old  elf,"  with  "eight  tiny  reindeer,"  used  to  drive 
his  sleigh-load  of  toys  up  to  our  housetops,  and  then 
bound  down  the  chimney  to  fill  the  stockings  so  hope- 
fully hung  by  the  fireplace.  His  friends  called  him 
Santa  Claus;  and  those  who  were  most  intimate  ven- 
tured to  say,  "Old  Nick."  It  was  said  that  he  origi- 
nally came  from  Holland.  Doubtless  he  did;  but,  if  so, 
he  certainly,  like  many  other  foreigners,  changed  his 
ways  very  much  after  landing  upon  our  shores.  In 
Holland,  St.  Nicholas  is  a  veritable  saint,  and  often  ap- 
pears in  full  costume,  with  his  embroidered  robes  glit- 
tering with  gems  and  gold,  his  mitre,  his  crosier,  and  his 
jewelled  gloves.  Here  Santa  Claus  comes  rollicking 
along  on  the  25th  of  December,  our  holy  Christmas 
morn;  but  in  Holland,  St.  Nicholas  visits  earth  on  the 
5th,  a  time  especially  appropriated  to  him.  Early  on 

64 


THE  FESTIVAL  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS         65 

the  morning  of  the  6th,  which  is  St.  Nicholas  Day,  he 
distributes  his  candies,  toys  and  treasures,  and  then 
vanishes  for  a  year. 

Christmas  Day  is  devoted  by  the  Hollanders  to 
church-rites  and  pleasant  family  visiting.  It  is  on  St. 
Nicholas  Eve  that  their  young  people  become  half  wild 
with  joy  and  expectation.  To  some  of  them  it  is  a 
sorry  time;  for  the  saint  is  very  candid,  and,  if  any  of 
them  have  been  bad  during  the  past  year,  he  is  quite 
sure  to  tell  them  so.  Sometimes  he  carries  a  birch-rod 
under  his  arm,  and  advises  the  parents  to  give  them 
scoldings  in  place  of  confections,  and  floggings  instead 
of  toys. 

It  was  well  that  the  boys  hastened  to  their  abodes 
on  that  bright  winter  evening;  for,  in  less  than  an  hour 
afterwards,  the  saint  made  his  appearance  in  half  the 
homes  of  Holland.  He  visited  the  king's  palace,  and  in 
the  selfsame  moment  appeared  in  Annie  Bouman's  com- 
fortable home.  Probably  one  of  our  silver  half-dollars 
would  have  purchased  all  that  his  saintship  left  at  the 
peasant  Bouman's.  But  a  half-dollar's  worth  will  some- 
times do  for  the  poor  what  hundreds  of  dollars  may  fail 
to  do  for  the  rich:  it  makes  them  happy  and  grateful, 
fills  them  with  new  peace  and  love. 

Hilda  van  deck's  little  brothers  and  sisters  were  in 
a  high  state  of  excitement  that  night.  They  had  been 
admitted  into  the  grand  parlor:  they  were  dressed  in 
their  best,  and  had  been  given  two  cakes  apiece  at  sup- 


66  HANS   BRINKER 

per.  Hilda  was  as  joyous  as  any.  Why  not  ?  St. 
Nicholas  would  never  cross  a  girl  of  fourteen  from  his 
list,  just  because  she  was  tall  and  looked  almost  like  a 
woman.  On  the  contrary,  he  would  probably  exert  him- 
self to  do  honor  to  such  an  august-looking  damsel.  Who 
could  tell  ?  So  she  sported  and  laughed  and  danced  as 
gayly  as  the  youngest,  and  was  the  soul  of  all  their 
merry  games.  Father,  mother  and  grandmother  looked 
on  approvingly;  so  did  grandfather,  before  he  spread  his 
large  red  handkerchief  over  his  face,  leaving  only  the 
top  of  his  skullcap  visible.  This  kerchief  was  his  ensign 
of  sleep. 

Earlier  in  the  evening,  all  had  joined  in  the  fun.  In 
the  general  hilarity,  there  had  seemed  to  be  a  difference 
only  in  bulk  between  grandfather  and  the  baby.  In- 
deed, a  shade  of  solemn  expectation,  now  and  then 
flitting  across  the  faces  of  the  younger  members,  had 
made  them  seem  rather  more  thoughtful  than  their 
elders. 

Now  the  spirit  of  fun  reigned  supreme.  The  very 
flames  danced  and  capered  in  the  polished  grate.  A 
pair  of  prim  candles,  that  had  been  staring  at  the  astral 
lamp,  began  to  wink  at  other  candles  far  away  in  the 
mirrors.  There  was  a  long  bell-rope  suspended  from 
the  ceiling  in  the  corner,  made  of  glass  beads,  netted 
over  a  cord  nearly  as  thick  as  your  wrist.  It  generally 
hung  in  the  shadow,  and  made  no  sign;  but  to-night 
it  twinkled  from  end  to  end.  Its  handle  of  crimson 


THE   FESTIVAL  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS         67 

glass  sent  reckless  dashes  of  red  at  the  papered  wall, 
turning  its  dainty  blue  stripes  into  purple.  Passers-by 
halted  to  catch  the  merry  laughter  floating  through  cur- 
tain and  sash  into  the  street,  then  skipped  on  their  way 
with  the  startled  consciousness  that  the  village  was  wide 
awake.  At  last  matters  grew  so  uproarious  that  the 
grandsire's  red  kerchief  came  down  from  his  face  with 
a  jerk.  What  decent  old  gentleman  could  sleep  in  such 
a  racket !  Mynheer  van  Gleck  regarded  his  children 
with  astonishment.  The  baby  even  showed  symptoms 
of  hysterics.  It  was  high  time  to  attend  to  business. 
Mevrouw  suggested  that,  if  they  wished  to  see  the  good 
St.  Nicholas,  they  should  sing  the  same  loving  invitation 
that  had  brought  him  the  year  before. 

The  baby  stared,  and  thrust  his  fist  into  his  mouth, 
as  mynheer  put  him  down  upon  the  floor.  Soon  he  sat 
erect,  and  looked  with  a  sweet  scowl  at  the  company. 
With  his  lace  and  embroideries,  and  his  crown  of  blue 
ribbon  and  whalebone  (for  he  was  not  quite  past  the 
tumbling  age),  he  looked  like  the  king  of  the  babies. 

The  other  children,  each  holding  a  pretty  willow 
basket,  formed  at  once  in  a  ring,  and  moved  slowly 
around  the  little  fellow,  lifting  their  eyes  meanwhile; 
for  the  saint  to  whom  they  were  about  to  address  them- 
selves was  yet  in  mysterious  quarters. 

Mevrouw  commenced  playing  softly  upon  the  piano; 
soon  the  voices  rose, — gentle,  youthful  voices,  rendered 
all  the  sweeter  for  their  tremor, — 


68  HANS   DRINKER 

"Welcome,  friend  !     St.  Nicholas,  welcome ! 

Bring  no  rod  for  us  to-night ! 

While  our  voices  bid  thee  welcome, 

Every  heart  with  joy  is  light. 

"Tell  us  every  fault  and  failing; 
We  will  bear  thy  keenest  railing 
So  we  sing,  so  we  sing: 
Thou  shalt  tell  us  everything ! 

"Welcome,  friend  !     St.  Nicholas,  welcome ! 

Welcome  to  this  merry  band ! 
Happy  children  greet  thee,  welcome ! 
Thou  art  gladdening  all  the  land. 

"Fill  each  empty  hand  and  basket; 
'Tis  thy  little  ones  who  ask  it. 
So  we  sing,  so  we  sing: 
Thou  wilt  bring  us  everything  I" 

During  the  chorus,  sundry  glances,  half  in  eagerness, 
half  in  dread,  had  been  cast  toward  the  polished  fold- 
ing-doors. Now  a  loud  knocking  was  heard.  The  circle 
was  broken  in  an  instant.  Some  of  the  little  ones,  with 
a  strange  mixture  of  fear  and  delight,  pressed  against 
their  mother's  knee.  Grandfather  bent  forward,  with 
his  chin  resting  upon  his  hand;  grandmother  lifted  her 
spectacles;  Mynheer  van  Gleck,  seated  by  the  fireplace, 
slowly  drew  his  meerschaum  from  his  mouth;  while 
Hilda  and  the  other  children  settled  themselves  beside 
him  in  an  expectant  group. 

The  knocking  was  heard  again. 

"Come  in,"  said  the  mevrouw,  softly. 


THE  FESTIVAL  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS         69 

The  door  slowly  opened;  and  St.  Nicholas,  in  full 
array,  stood  before  them.  You  could  have  heard  a  pin 
drop.  Soon  he  spoke.  What  a  mysterious  majesty  in 
his  voice !  what  kindliness  in  his  tones  ! 

"Karel  van  Gleck,  I  am  pleased  to  greet  thee,  and  thy 
honored  vrouw,  Kathrine,  and  thy  son,  and  his  good 
vrouw,  Annie. 

"Children,  I  greet  ye  all, — Hendrick,  Hilda,  Broom, 
Katy,  Huygens  and  Lucretia.  And  thy  cousins, — Wol- 
fert,  Died  rich,  Mayken,  Voost  and  Katrina.  Good  chil- 
dren ye  have  been,  in  the  main,  since  I  last  accosted  ye. 
Diedrich  was  rude  at  the  Haarlem  fair  last  fall;  but  he 
has  tried  to  atone  for  it  since.  Mayken  has  failed,  of 
late,  in  her  lessons;  and  too  many  sweets  and  trifles  have 
gone  to  her  lips,  and  too  few  stivers  to  her  charity-box. 
Diedrich,  I  trust,  will  be  a  polite,  manly  boy  for  the 
future;  and  Mayken  will  endeavor  to  shine  as  a  student. 
Let  her  remember,  too,  that  economy  and  thrift  are 
needed  in  the  foundation  of  a  worthy  and  generous  life. 
Little  Katy  has  been  cruel  to  the  cat  more  than  once. 
St.  Nicholas  can  hear  the  cat  cry  when  its  tail  is  pulled. 
I  will  forgive  her,  if  she  will  remember  from  this  hour 
that  the  smallest  dumb  creatures  have  feeling,  and  must 
not  be  abused." 

As  Katy  burst  into  a  frightened  cry,  the  saint  gra- 
ciously remained  silent  until  she  was  soothed. 

"Master  Broom,"  he  resumed,  "I  warn  thee  that  boys 
who  are  in  the  habit  of  putting  snuff  upon  the  foot- 


70  HANS   BRINKER 

stove  of  the  school-mistress  may  one  day  be  discovered, 
and  receive  a  flogging — " 

[Master  Broom  colored,  and  stared  in  great  astonish- 
ment.] 

"But,  thou  art  such  an  excellent  scholar,  I  shall  make 
thee  no  further  reproof. 

"Thou,  Hendrick,  didst  distinguish  thyself  in  the 
archery  match  last  spring,  and  hit  the  doel,1  though  the 
bird  was  swung  before  it  to  unsteady  thine  eye.  I  give 
thee  credit  for  excelling  in  manly  sport  and  exercise; 
though  I  must  not  unduly  countenance  thy  boat-racing, 
since  it  leaves  thee  too  little  time  for  thy  proper  studies. 

"Lucretia  and  Hilda  shall  have  a  blessed  sleep  to- 
night. The  consciousness  of  kindness  to  the  poor,  devo- 
tion in  their  souls,  and  cheerful,  hearty  obedience  to 
household  rule,  will  render  them  happy. 

"With  one  and  all  I  avow  myself  well  content.  Good- 
ness, industry,  benevolence  and  thrift  have  prevailed  in 
your  midst.  Therefore,  my  blessing  upon  you;  and  may 
the  New  Year  find  all  treading  the  paths  of  obedience,  wis- 
dom and  love  !  To-morrow  you  shall  find  more  substan- 
tial proofs  that  I  have  been  in  your  home.  Farewell !" 

With  these  words  came  a  great  shower  of  sugar-plums 
upon  a  linen  sheet  spread  out  in  front  of  the  doors.  A 
general  scramble  followed.  The  children  fairly  tumbled 
over  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to  fill  their  baskets. 
Mevrouw  cautiously  held  the  baby  down  upon  the  sheet 

1  Bull's-eye. 


THE  DOOR  SLOWLY  OPENED;  AND  ST.   NICHOLAS,  IN   FULL  ARRAY,  STOOD 
BEFORE  THEM 


THE  FESTIVAL  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS         71 

till  the  chubby  little  fists  were  filled.  Then  the  bravest 
of  the  youngsters  sprang  up  and  threw  open  the  closed 
doors.  In  vain  they  searched  the  mysterious  apart- 
ment. St.  Nicholas  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Soon  they  all  sped  to  another  room,  where  stood  a 
table,  covered  with  the  whitest  of  linen  damask.  Each 
child,  in  a  flutter  of  pleasure,  laid  a  shoe  upon  it,  and 
each  shoe  held  a  little  hay  for  the  good  saint's  horse. 
The  door  was  then  carefully  locked,  and  its  key  hidden 
in  the  mother's  bedroom.  Next  followed  good-night 
kisses,  a  grand  family  procession  to  the  upper  floor, 
merry  farewells  at  bedroom  doors,  and  silence,  at  last, 
reigned  in  the  Van  Gleck  mansion. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  door  was  solemnly  un- 
locked and  opened  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled 
household;  when,  lo !  a  sight  appeared,  proving  good 
St.  Nicholas  to  be  a  saint  of  his  word. 

Every  shoe  was  filled  to  overflowing;  and  beside  each 
stood  a  many-colored  pile.  The  table  was  heavy  with 
its  load  of  presents, — candles,  toys,  trinkets,  books  and 
other  articles.  Every  one  had  gifts,  from  grandfather 
down  to  the  baby. 

Little  Katy  clapped  her  hands  with  glee,  and  vowed 
inwardly  that  the  cat  should  never  know  another  mo- 
ment's grief. 

Hendrick  capered  about  the  room,  flourishing  a  superb 
bow  and  arrows  over  his  head.  Hilda  laughed  with  de- 
light as  she  opened  a  crimson  box,  and  drew  forth  its 


72  HANS  DRINKER 

glittering  contents.  The  rest  chuckled,  and  said,  "Oh  I" 
and  "Ah!"  over  their  treasures,  very  much  as  we  did 
here  in  America  on  last  Christmas  Day. 

With  her  glittering  necklace  in  her  hands,  and  a  pile 
of  books  in  her  arms,  Hilda  stole  toward  her  parents, 
and  held  up  her  beaming  face  for  a  kiss.  There  was 
such  an  earnest,  tender  look  in  her  bright  eyes  that  her 
mother  breathed  a  blessing  as  she  leaned  over  her. 

"I  am  delighted  with  this  book:  thank  you,  father!" 
she  said,  touching  the  top  one  with  her  chin.  "I  shall 
read  it  all  day  long." 

"Ay,  sweetheart,"  said  mynheer,  "you  cannot  do  bet- 
ter. There  is  no  one  like  Father  Cats.  If  my  daughter 
learns  his  'Moral  Emblem'  by  heart,  the  mother  and  I 
may  keep  silent.  The  work  you  have  there,  the  Em- 
blems, is  his  best  work.  You  will  find  it  enriched  with 
rare  engravings  from  Van  de  Venne." 

[Considering  that  the  back  of  the  book  was  turned 
away,  mynheer  certainly  showed  a  surprising  familiarity 
with  an  unopened  volume  presented  by  St.  Nicholas. 
It  was  strange,  too,  that  the  saint  should  have  found 
certain  things  made  by  the  elder  children,  and  have 
actually  placed  them  upon  the  table,  labelled  with  par- 
ents' and  grandparents'  names.  But  all  were  too  much 
absorbed  in  happiness  to  notice  slight  inconsistencies. 
Hilda  saw  on  her  father's  face  the  rapt  expression  he  always 
wore  when  he  spoke  of  Jacob  Cats;  so  she  put  her  armful 
of  books  upon  the  table,  and  resigned  herself  to  listen.] 


THE  FESTIVAL  OF  ST.  NICHOLAS         73 

"Old  Father  Cats,  my  child,  was  a  great  poet,  not  a 
writer  of  plays,  like  the  Englishman  Shakspeare,  who 
lived  in  his  time.  I  have  read  them  in  the  German; 
and  very  good  they  are, — very,  very  good, — but  not 
like  Father  Cats's.  Cats  sees  no  daggers  in  the  air; 
he  has  no  white  women  falling  in  love  with  dusky  Moors, 
no  young  fools  sighing  to  be  a  lady's  glove,  no  crazy 
princes  mistaking  respectable  old  gentlemen  for  rats. 
No,  no !  He  writes  only  sense.  It  is  great  wisdom  in 
little  bundles, — a  bundle  for  every  day  of  your  life. 
You  can  guide  a  state  with  Cats's  poems;  and  you  can 
put  a  little  baby  to  sleep  with  his  pretty  songs.  He 
was  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  Holland.  When  I  take 
you  to  the  Hague,  I  will  show  you  the  Kloosterkerk 
where  he  lies  buried.  There  was  a  man  for  you  to  study, 
my  sons !  He  was  good  through  and  through.  What 
did  he  say  ? — 

"'0  Lord !  let  me  obtain  this  from  thee, 

To  live  with  patience,  and  to  die  with  pleasure/1 

"Did  patience  mean  folding  his  hands?  No,  he  was 
a  lawyer,  statesman,  ambassador,  farmer,  philosopher, 
historian  and  poet.  He  was  keeper  of  the  Great  Seal 
of  Holland.  He  was  a —  Bah !  there  is  too  much 
noise  here;  I  cannot  talk."  And  mynheer,  looking  with 
astonishment  into  the  bowl  of  his  meerschaum  (for  it 
had  "gone  out")>  nodded  to  his  vrouw,  and  left  the 
apartment  in  great  haste. 

1  O  Heere  !  laat  my  dat  van  uwen  hand  verwerven, 
Te  leven  met  gedult,  en  met  vermaak  te  sterven. 


74  HANS  BRINKER 

The  fact  is,  his  discourse  had  been  accompanied 
throughout  with  a  subdued  chorus  of  barking  dogs, 
squeaking  cats  and  bleating  lambs,  to  say  nothing  of  a 
noisy  ivory  cricket,  that  the  baby  was  whirling  with  in- 
finite delight.  At  the  last,  little  Huygens,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  increasing  loudness  of  mynheer's  tones, 
had  ventured  a  blast  on  his  new  trumpet;  and  Wolfert 
had  hastily  attempted  an  accompaniment  on  the  drum. 
This  had  brought  matters  to  a  crisis;  and  well  for  the 
little  creatures  that  it  had.  The  saint  had  left  no  ticket 
for  them  to  attend  a  lecture  on  Jacob  Cats.  It  was  not 
an  appointed  part  of  the  ceremonies.  Therefore,  when 
the  youngsters  saw  that  the  mother  looked  neither 
frightened  nor  offended,  they  gathered  new  courage. 
The  grand  chorus  rose  triumphant;  and  frolic  and  joy 
reigned  supreme. 

Good  St.  Nicholas !  For  the  sake  of  the  young  Hol- 
landers, I,  for  one,  am  willing  to  acknowledge  him,  and 
defend  his  reality  against  all  unbelievers. 

Carl  Schummel  was  quite  busy  during  that  day,  assur- 
ing little  children  confidentially  that  not  St.  Nicholas, 
but  their  own  fathers  and  mothers,  had  produced  the 
oracle,  and  loaded  the  tables.  But  we  know  better  than 
that. 

And  yet,  if  this  were  a  saint,  why  did  he  not  visit  the 
Brinker  cottage  that  night  ?  Why  was  that  one  home, 
so  dark  and  sorrowful,  passed  by  ? 


X 


WHAT  THE    BOYS    SAW   AND   DID   IN   AMSTERDAM 


we  all  here?"  cried  Peter,  in  high  glee,  as  the 
party  assembled  upon  the  canal,  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, equipped  for  their  skating-journey.  "Let  me  see. 
As  Jacob  has  made  me  captain,  I  must  call  the  roll. 
Carl  Schummel,  you  here?" 

"Ya!" 

"Jacob  Foot?" 

"Ya!" 

"Benjamin  Dobbs?" 

"Ya-a!" 

"Lambert  van  Mounen?" 

"Ya!" 

"That's  lucky  !  Couldn't  get  on  without  you,  as 
you're  the  only  one  who  can  speak  English.—  Ludwig 
vanHolp?" 

"Ya!" 

"Voostenwalbert  Schimmelpenninck  ?" 

No  answer. 

75 


76  HANS   DRINKER 

"Ah  I  the  little  rogue  has  been  kept  at  home. — Now, 
boys,  it's  just  eight  o'clock,  glorious  weather;  and  the 
Y  is  as  firm  as  a  rock.  We'll  be  at  Amsterdam  in  thirty 
minutes.  One,  two,  three — START!" 

True  enough.  In  less  than  half  an  hour,  they  had 
crossed  a  dike  of  solid  masonry,  and  were  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  great  metropolis  of  the  Netherlands, — a 
walled  city  of  ninety-five  islands,  and  nearly  two  hun- 
dred bridges.  Although  Ben  had  been  there  twice  since 
his  arrival  in  Holland,  he  saw  much  to  excite  wonder; 
but  his  Dutch  comrades,  having  lived  near  by  all  their 
lives,  considered  it  the  most  matter-of-course  place  in 
the  world.  Everything  interested  Ben, — the  tall  houses, 
with  their  forked  chimneys,  and  gabled  ends  facing  the 
street;  the  merchants'  warerooms,  perched  high  up 
under  the  roofs  of  their  dwellings,  with  long  arm-like 
cranes  hoisting  and  lowering  goods  past  the  household 
windows;  the  grand  public  buildings,  erected  upon 
wooden  piles  driven  deep  into  the  marshy  ground;  the 
narrow  streets;  the  canals  everywhere  crossing  the  city; 
the  bridges;  the  locks;  the  various  costumes;  and, 
strangest  of  all,  shops  and  dwellings  crouching  close  to 
the  fronts  of  the  churches,  sending  their  long,  dispro- 
portionate chimneys  far  upward  along  the  sacred  walls. 

If  he  looked  up,  he  saw  tall,  leaning  houses,  seeming 
to  pierce  the  sky  with  their  shining  roofs;  if  he  looked 
down,  there  was  the  queer  street,  without  crossing  or 
curb,  nothing  to  separate  the  cobble-stone  pavement 


THE  BOYS  IN  AMSTERDAM  77 

from  the  footpath  of  brick;  and,  if  he  rested  his  eyes 
half-way,  he  saw  complicated  little  mirrors  (spionnen) 
fastened  upon  the  outside  of  nearly  every  window,  so 
arranged  that  the  inmates  of  the  houses  could  observe 
all  that  was  going  on  in  the  street,  or  inspect  whoever 
might  be  knocking  at  the  door,  without  being  seen  them- 
selves. 

Sometimes  a  dog-cart,  heaped  with  wooden-ware, 
passed  him;  then  a  donkey,  bearing  a  pair  of  panniers 
filled  with  crockery  or  glass;  then  a  sled  driven  over  the 
bare  cobble-stones  (the  runners  kept  greased  with  a 
dripping  oil  rag,  so  that  it  might  run  easily);  and  then, 
perhaps,  a  showy  but  clumsy  family  carriage,  drawn  by 
the  brownest  of  Flanders  horses,  swinging  the  whitest 
of  snowy  tails. 

The  city  was  in  full  festival  array.  Every  shop  was 
gorgeous  in  honor  of  St.  Nicholas.  Captain  Peter  was 
forced  more  than  once  to  order  his  men  away  from  the 
tempting  show-windows,  where  everything  that  is,  has 
been,  or  can  be  thought  of  in  the  way  of  toys,  was  dis- 
played. Holland  is  famous  for  this  branch  of  manu- 
facture. Every  possible  thing  is  copied  in  miniature  for 
the  benefit  of  the  little  ones.  The  intricate  mechanical 
toys  that  a  Dutch  youngster  tumbles  about  in  stolid  un- 
concern would  create  a  stir  in  our  patent-office.  Ben 
laughed  outright  at  some  of  the  mimic  fishing-boats; 
they  were  so  heavy  and  stumpy,  so  like  the  queer  craft 
that  he  had  seen  about  Rotterdam.  The  tiny  trek- 


78  HANS   BRINKER 

schuiten,  however,  only  a  foot  or  two  long,  and  fitted  out 
complete,  made  his  heart  ache,  he  so  longed  to  buy  one 
at  once  for  his  little  brother  in  England.  He  had  no 
money  to  spare;  for,  with  true  Dutch  prudence,  the 
party  had  agreed  to  take  with  them  merely  the  sum  re- 
quired for  each  boy's  expenses,  and  to  consign  the  purse 
to  Peter  for  safe  keeping.  Consequently,  Master  Ben 
concluded  to  devote  all  his  energies  to  sightseeing,  and 
to  think  as  seldom  as  possible  of  little  Robby. 

He  made  a  hasty  call  at  the  marine  school,  and  envied 
the  sailor-students  their  full-rigged  brig,  and  their  sleep- 
ing berths  swung  over  their  trunks,  or  lockers.  He  hur- 
ried through  picture-galleries  with  the  boys,  and  stared 
for  full  five  minutes  at  the  famous  picture  of  "The 
Round  of  the  Night,"  or,  as  many  called  it,  "The  Night 
Watch,"  by  Rembrandt,  who  spent  many  years  of  his 
life  in  Amsterdam.  He  peeped  into  the  Jews'  quarter 
of  the  city,  where  the  rich  diamond-cutters  and  squalid 
old-clothesmen  dwell,  and  wisely  resolved  to  keep  away 
from  it.  He  also  enjoyed  hasty  glimpses  of  the  four 
principal  avenues  of  Amsterdam, — the  Prinsen  Gracht, 
Keizers  Gracht,  Heeren  Gracht  and  Singel.  These  are 
semicircular  in  form;  and  the  first  three  average  more 
than  two  miles  in  length.  A  canal  runs  through  the 
centre  of  each,  with  a  well-paved  road  on  either  side, 
lined  with  stately  buildings.  Rows  of  naked  elms,  bor- 
dering the  canal,  cast  a  network  of  shadows  over  its 
frozen  surface;  and  everything  was  so  clean  and  bright 


THE  BOYS  IN  AMSTERDAM  79 

that  Ben  told  Lambert  it  seemed  to  him  like  petrified 
neatness. 

Fortunately,  the  weather  was  cold  enough  to  put  a 
stop  to  the  usual  street-flooding  and  window-washing, 
or  our  young  excursionists  might  have  been  drenched 
more  than  once.  Sweeping,  mopping  and  scrubbing 
form  a  passion  with  Dutch  housewives;  and  to  soil 
their  spotless  mansions  is  considered  scarcely  less  than 
a  crime.  Everywhere  a  hearty  contempt  is  felt  for 
those  who  neglect  to  rub  the  soles  of  their  shoes  to  a 
polish  before  crossing  the  doorsill;  and,  in  certain  places, 
visitors  are  expected  to  remove  their  heavy  shoes  before 
entering,  and  leave  them  outside  near  the  doorstep. 

Sir  William  Temple,  in  his  memoirs  of  "What  passed 
in  Christendom  from  1672  to  1679,"  tells  a  story  of  a 
pompous  magistrate  going  to  visit  a  lady  of  Amsterdam. 
A  stout  Holland  lass  opened  the  door,  and  told  him  in 
a  breath  that  the  lady  was  at  home,  and  that  his  shoes 
were  not  very  clean.  Without  another  word,  she  took 
the  astonished  man  up  by  both  arms,  threw  him  across 
her  back,  carried  him  through  two  rooms,  set  him  down 
at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  seized  a  pair  of  slippers  that 
stood  there,  and  put  them  upon  his  feet.  Then,  and 
not  until  then,  she  spoke,  telling  him  that  her  mistress 
was  on  the  floor  above,  and  that  he  might  go  up. 

While  Ben  was  skating  with  his  friends  upon  the 
crowded  canals  of  the  city,  he  found  it  difficult  to  be- 
lieve that  the  sleepy  Dutchmen  he  saw  around  him, 


8o  HANS  DRINKER 

smoking  their  pipes  so  leisurely,  and  looking  as  though 
their  hats  might  be  knocked  off  their  heads  without 
their  making  any  resistance,  were  capable  of  those  out- 
breaks that  had  taken  place  in  Holland;  that  they  were 
really  fellow-countrymen  of  the  brave,  devoted  heroes 
of  whom  he  had  read  in  Dutch  history. 

As  his  party  skimmed  lightly  along,  he  told  Van 
Mounen  of  a  burial-riot,  which,  in  1696,  had  occurred 
in  that  very  city,  where  the  women  and  children  turned 
out  as  well  as  the  men,  and  formed  mock  funeral-proces- 
sions through  the  town,  to  show  the  burgomasters  that 
certain  new  regulations,  with  regard  to  burying  the  dead, 
would  not  be  acceded  to;  how,  at  last,  they  grew  so  un- 
manageable, and  threatened  so  much  damage  to  the 
city,  that  the  burgomasters  were  glad  to  recall  the  of- 
fensive law. 

"There's  the  corner,"  said  Jacob,  pointing  to  some 
large  buildings,  "where,  about  fifteen  years  ago,  the 
great  corn-houses  sank  down  in  the  mud.  They  were 
strong  affairs,  and  set  up  on  good  piles;  but  they  had 
over  seventy  thousand  hundredweight  of  corn  in  them, 
and  that  was  too  much." 

It  was  a  long  story  for  Jacob  to  tell,  and  he  stopped 
to  rest. 

"How  do  you  know  there  were  seventy  thousand  hun- 
dredweight in  them?"  asked  Carl,  sharply.  "You  were 
in  your  swaddling-clothes  then." 

"My  father  knows  all  about  it,"  was  Jacob's  sugges- 


THE  BOYS  IN  AMSTERDAM  81 

tive  reply.  Rousing  himself  with  an  effort,  he  con- 
tinued, "Ben  likes  pictures:  show  him  some." 

"All  right,"  said  the  captain. 

"If  we  had  time,  Benjamin,"  said  Lambert  van  Mou- 
nen  in  English,  "I  should  like  to  take  you  to  the  City 
Hall,  or  Stadhuis.  There  are  building-piles  for  you ! 
It  is  built  on  nearly  fourteen  thousand  of  them,  driven 
seventy  feet  into  the  ground.  But  what  I  wish  you  to 
see  there  is  the  big  picture  of  Van  Speyk  blowing  up 
his  ship — great  picture." 

"Van  who?"  asked  Ben. 

"Van  Speyk.  Don't  you  remember  ?  He  was  in  the 
height  of  an  engagement  with  the  Belgians;  and  when 
he  found  that  they  had  the  better  of  him  and  would 
capture  his  ship,  he  blew  it  up,  and  himself  too,  rather 
than  yield  to  the  enemy." 

"  Wasn't  that  Van  Tromp?" 

"Oh,  no !  Van  Tromp  was  another  brave  fellow. 
They've  a  monument  to  him  down  at  Delftshaven, — the 
place  where  the  Pilgrims  took  ship  for  America." 

"Well,  what  about  Van  Tromp  ?  He  was  a  great 
Dutch  admiral,  wasn't  he?" 

"Yes;  he  was  in  more  than  thirty  sea-fights.  He  beat 
the  Spanish  fleet  and  an  English  one,  and  then  fastened 
a  broom  to  his  masthead  to  show  that  he  had  swept 
the  English  from  the  sea.  Takes  the  Dutch,  to  beat, 
my  boy!" 

"Hold  up!"  cried  Ben.     "Broom  or  no  broom,  the 


82  HANS  BRINKER 

English  conquered  him  at  last.  I  remember  all  about 
it  now.  He  was  killed  somewhere  on  the  Dutch  coast 
in  an  engagement  in  which  the  British  fleet  was  victori- 
ous. Too  bad!"  he  added  maliciously,  "wasn't  it?" 

"Ahem!  where  are  we?"  exclaimed  Lambert,  chang- 
ing the  subject.  "Halloo!  the  others  are  way  ahead  of 
us — all  but  Jacob.  Whew !  how  fat  he  is !  He'll  break 
down  before  we're  half-way." 

Ben,  of  course,  enjoyed  skating  beside  Lambert,  who, 
though  a  stanch  Hollander,  had  been  educated  near 
London,  and  could  speak  English  as  fluently  as  Dutch; 
but  he  was  not  sorry  when  Captain  van  Holp  called 
out, — 

"Skates  off!     There's  the  museum  !" 

It  was  open;  and  there  was  no  charge  on  that  day  for 
admission.  In  they  went,  shuffling,  as  boys  will  when 
they  have  a  chance,  just  to  hear  the  sound  of  their  shoes 
on  the  polished  floor. 

This  museum  is,  in  fact,  a  picture-gallery,  where  some 
of  the  finest  works  of  the  Dutch  masters  are  to  be  seen, 
besides  nearly  two  hundred  portfolios  of  rare  engrav- 
ings. 

Ben  noticed  at  once  that  some  of  the  pictures  were 
hung  on  panels  fastened  to  the  wall  with  hinges.  These 
could  be  swung  forward,  like  a  window-shutter,  thus 
enabling  the  subject  to  be  seen  in  the  best  light.  The 
plan  served  them  well  in  viewing  a  small  group  by  Ger- 
ard Douw,  called  "The  Evening  School:"  enabling  them 


THE  BOYS  IN  AMSTERDAM  83 

to  observe  its  exquisite  finish,  and  the  wonderful  way 
in  which  the  picture  seemed  to  be  lit  through  its  own 
windows.  Peter  pointed  out  the  beauties  of  another 
picture  by  Douw,  called  "The  Hermit;"  and  he  also 
told  them  some  interesting  anecdotes  of  the  artist,  who 
was  born  at  Leyden,  in  1613. 

"Three  days  painting  a  broom-handle!"  echoed  Carl, 
in  astonishment,  while  the  captain  was  giving  some  in- 
stances of  Douw's  extreme  slowness  of  execution. 

"Yes,  sir,  three  days;  and  it  is  said  that  he  spent  five 
in  finishing  one  hand  in  a  lady's  portrait.  You  see  how 
very  bright  and  minute  everything  is  in  this  picture. 
His  unfinished  works  were  kept  carefully  covered;  and 
his  painting-materials  were  put  away  in  air-tight  boxes, 
as  soon  as  he  had  finished  using  them  for  the  day.  Ac- 
cording to  all  accounts,  the  studio  itself  must  have  been 
as  close  as  a  bandbox.  The  artist  always  entered  it 
on  tiptoe,  besides  sitting  still,  before  he  commenced 
work,  until  the  slight  dust  caused  by  his  entrance  had 
settled.  I  have  read  somewhere  that  his  paintings  are  im- 
proved by  being  viewed  through  a  magnifying-glass.  He 
strained  his  eyes  so  badly  with  this  extra  finishing  that 
he  was  forced  to  wear  spectacles  before  he  was  thirty. 
At  forty  he  could  scarcely  see  to  paint;  and  he  couldn't 
find  a  pair  of  glasses  anywhere  that  would  help  his  sight. 
At  last,  a  poor  old  German  woman  asked  him  to  try 
hers.  They  suited  him  exactly,  and  enabled  him  to  go 
on  painting  as  well  as  ever." 


84  HANS   DRINKER 

"Humph!"  exclaimed  Ludwig,  indignantly.  "That 
was  nice  !  What  did  she  do  without  them,  I  wonder  ?" 

"Oh!"  said  Peter,  laughing,  "likely  she  had  another 
pair.  At  any  rate,  she  insisted  upon  his  taking  them. 
He  was  so  grateful  that  he  painted  a  picture  of  the 
spectacles  for  her,  case  and  all;  and  she  sold  it  to  a  burgo- 
master for  a  yearly  allowance  that  made  her  comfortable 
for  the  rest  of  her  days." 

"Boys,"  called  Lambert,  in  a  loud  whisper,  "come 
look  at  this  bear-hunt!" 

It  was  a  fine  painting  by  Paul  Potter,  a  Dutch  artist 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  who  produced  excellent  works 
before  he  was  sixteen  years  old.  The  boys  admired  it, 
because  the  subject  pleased  them.  They  passed  care- 
lessly by  the  masterpieces  of  Rembrandt  and  Van  der 
Heist,  and  went  into  raptures  over  an  ugly  picture  by 
Van  der  Venne,  representing  a  sea-fight  between  the 
Dutch  and  English.  They  also  stood  spell-bound  be- 
fore a  painting  of  two  little  urchins,  one  of  whom  was 
taking  soup,  and  the  other  eating  an  egg.  The  prin- 
cipal merit  in  this  work  was  that  the  young  egg-eater 
had  kindly  slobbered  his  face  with  the  yolk  for  their 
entertainment. 

An  excellent  representation  of  the  "Feast  of  St. 
Nicholas"  next  had  the  honor  of  attracting  them. 

"Look,  Van  Mounen !"  said  Ben  to  Lambert.  "Could 
anything  be  better  than  this  youngster's  face  ?  He 
looks  as  if  he  knows  he  deserves  a  whipping,  but  hopes 


THE  BOYS  IN  AMSTERDAM  85 

St.  Nicholas  may  not  have  found  him  out.  That's  the 
kind  of  painting  I  like, — something  that  tells  a  story." 

"Come,  boys!"  cried  the  captain:  "ten  o'clock,  time 
we  were  off!" 

They  hastened  to  the  canal. 

"Skates  on!  Are  you  ready?  One,  two — halloo! 
where's  Foot?" 

Surely  enough,  where  was  Foot  ? 

A  square  opening  had  just  been  cut  in  the  ice  not  ten 
yards  off.  Peter  observed  it,  and  without  a  word  skated 
rapidly  toward  it. 

All  the  others  followed,  of  course. 

Peter  looked  in.  They  all  looked  in;  then  stared 
anxiously  at  each  other. 

"Foot!"  screamed  Peter,  peering  into  the  hole  again. 
All  was  still.  The  black  water  gave  no  sign:  it  was 
already  glazing  on  top. 

Van  Mounen  turned  mysteriously  to  Ben. 

"Didn't  he  have  a  fit  once  ?  " 

"My  goodness,  yes!"  answered  Ben,  in  a  great  fright. 

"Then,  depend  upon  it,  he's  been  taken  with  one  in 
the  museum !" 

The  boys  caught  his  meaning.  Every  skate  was  off 
in  a  twinkling.  Peter  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  scoop 
up  a  capful  of  water  from  the  hole;  and  off  they  scam- 
pered to  the  rescue. 

Alas !  they  did,  indeed,  find  poor  Jacob  in  a  fit — but 
it  was  a  fit  of  sleepiness.  There  he  lay  in  a  recess  of 


86  HANS  BRINKER 

the  gallery,  snoring  like  a  trooper.  The  chorus  of  laugh- 
ter that  followed  this  discovery  brought  an  angry  official 
to  the  spot. 

"What  now!  None  of  this  racket!  Here,  you  beer- 
barrel,  wake  up  !"  and  Master  Jacob  received  a  very  un- 
ceremonious shaking. 

As  soon  as  Peter  saw  that  Jacob's  condition  was  not 
serious,  he  hastened  to  the  street  to  empty  his  unfortu- 
nate cap.  While  he  was  stuffing  in  his  handkerchief  to 
prevent  the  already  frozen  crown  from  touching  his  head, 
the  rest  of  the  boys  came  down,  dragging  the  bewildered 
and  indignant  Jacob  in  their  midst. 

The  order  to  start  was  again  given.  Master  Foot  was 
wide  awake  at  last.  The  ice  was  a  little  rough  and 
broken  just  there;  but  every  boy  was  in  high  spirits. 

"Shall  we  go  on  by  the  canal,  or  the  river?"  asked 
Peter. 

"Oh,  the  river,  by  all  means!"  said  Carl.  "It  will  be 
such  fun.  They  say  it  is  perfect  skating  all  the  way; 
but  it's  much  farther." 

Jacob  Poot  instantly  became  interested. 

"/  vote  for  the  canal!"  he  cried. 

"Well,  the  canal  it  shall  be,"  responded  the  captain, 
"if  all  are  agreed." 

"Agreed !"  they  echoed,  in  rather  a  disappointed  tone; 
and  Captain  Peter  led  the  way. 

"All  right,  come  on.  We  can  reach  Haarlem  in  an 
hour." 


\ 


XI 


BIG  MANIAS   AND    LITTLE    ODDITIES 

WHILE  skating  along  at  full  speed,  they  heard  the  cars 
from  Amsterdam  coming  close  behind  them. 

"Halloo!"  cried  Ludwig,  glancing  toward  the  rail- 
track,  "who  can't  beat  a  locomotive  ?  Let's  give  it  a 
race." 

The  whistle  screamed  at  the  very  idea:  so  did  the 
boys,  and  at  it  they  went. 

For  an  instant  the  boys  were  ahead,  hurrahing  with 
all  their  might — only  for  an  instant,  but  even  that  was 
something. 

This  excitement  over,  they  began  to  travel  more 
leisurely,  and  indulge  in  conversation  and  frolic.  Some- 
times they  stopped  to  exchange  a  word  with  the  guards, 
who  were  stationed  at  certain  distances  along  the  canal. 
These  men,  in  winter,  attend  to  keeping  the  surface  free 
from  obstruction  and  garbage.  After  a  snow-storm,  they 
are  expected  to  sweep  the  feathery  covering  away  before 
it  hardens  into  a  marble,  pretty  to  look  at,  but  very  un- 

87 


88  HANS   DRINKER 

welcome  to  skaters.  Now  and  then  the  boys  so  far  for- 
got their  dignity  as  to  clamber  among  the  ice-bound 
canal-boats,  crowded  together  in  a  widened  harbor  off 
the  canal;  but  the  watchful  guards  would  soon  spy 
them  out,  and  order  them  down  with  a  growl. 

Nothing  could  be  straighter  than  the  canal  upon 
which  our  party  were  skating,  and  nothing  straighter 
than  the  long  rows  of  willow-trees  that  stood,  bare  and 
wispy,  along  the  bank.  On  the  opposite  side,  lifted  high 
above  the  surrounding  country,  lay  the  carriage-road 
on  top  of  the  great  dike  built  to  keep  the  Haarlem  Lake 
within  bounds.  Stretching  out  far  in  the  distance,  un- 
til it  became  lost  in  a  point,  was  the  glassy  canal  with 
its  many  skaters,  its  brown-winged  ice-boats,  its  push- 
chairs, and  its  queer  little  sleds,  light  as  cork,  flying  over 
the  ice  by  means  of  iron-pronged  sticks  in  the  hands  of 
the  riders.  Ben  was  in  ecstasy  with  the  scene. 

Ludwig  van  Holp  had  been  thinking  how  strange  it 
was  that  the  English  boy  should  know  so  much  of  Hol- 
land. According  to  Lambert's  account,  he  knew  more 
about  it  than  the  Dutch  did.  This  did  not  quite  please 
our  young  Hollander.  Suddenly  he  thought  of  something 
that  he  believed  would  make  the  "Shon  Pull  "open  his 
eyes.  He  drew  near  Lambert  with  a  triumphant, — 

"Tell  him  about  the  tulips!" 

Ben  caught  the  word  tulpen. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  he,  eagerly,  in  English.  "The  tulip 
mania — are  you  speaking  of  that  ?  I  have  often  heard 


BIG  MANIAS  AND  LITTLE  ODDITIES      89 

it  mentioned,  but  know  very  little  about  it.  It  reached 
its  height  in  Amsterdam,  didn't  it?" 

Ludwig  moaned.  The  words  were  hard  to  understand; 
but  there  was  no  mistaking  the  enlightened  expression 
on  Ben's  face.  Lambert,  happily,  was  quite  unconscious 
of  his  young  countryman's  distress  as  he  replied, — 

"Yes,  here  and  in  Haarlem,  principally;  but  the  ex- 
citement ran  high  all  over  Holland,  and  in  England,  too, 
for  that  matter." 

"Hardly  in  England,1  I  think,"  said  Ben;  "but  I  am 
not  sure,  as  I  was  not  there  at  the  time." 

"Ha,  ha!  that's  true,  unless  you  are  over  two  hun- 
dred years  old.  Well,  I  tell  you,  sir,  there  was  never 
anything  like  it  before  nor  since.  Why,  persons  were 
so  crazy  after  tulip-bulbs  in  those  days  that  they  paid 
their  weight  in  gold  for  them." 

Although  the  tulip  mania  did  not  prevail  in  England  as  in  Holland,  the 
flower  soon  became  an  object  of  speculation,  and  brought  very  large  prices. 
In  1636,  tulips  were  publicly  sold  on  the  Exchange  of  London.  Even  as  late 
as  1800,  a  common  price  was  fifteen  guineas  for  one  bulb.  Ben  did  not  know 
that,  in  his  own  day,  a  single  tulip-plant,  called  the  "Fanny  Kemble,"  had 
been  sold  in  London  for  more  than  seventy  guineas. 

Mr.  Mackay,  in  his  "Memoirs  of  Popular  Delusions,"  tells  a  funny  story  of 
an  English  botanist  who  happened  to  see  a  tulip-bulb  lying  in  the  conservatory 
of  a  wealthy  Dutchman.  Ignorant  of  its  value,  he  took  out  his  penknife,  and, 
cutting  the  bulb  in  two,  became  very  much  interested  in  his  investigations. 
Suddenly  the  owner  appeared,  and,  pouncing  furiously  upon  him,  asked  him 
if  he  knew  what  he  was  doing  "Peeling  a  most  extraordinary  onion,"  replied 
the  philosopher.  "Hundert  tousant  tuyvel!"  shouted  the  Dutchman.  "It's 
an  admiral  van  der  eyk!" — "Thank  you,"  replied  the  traveller,  immediately 
writing  the  name  in  his  note-book.  "Pray,  are  these  very  common  in  your 
country?" — "Death  and  the  tuyvel!"  screamed  the  Dutchman.  "Come  be- 
fore the  Syndic,  and  you  shall  see."  In  spite  of  his  struggles,  the  poor  investi- 
gator, followed  by  an  indignant  mob,  was  taken  through  the  streets  to  a  magis- 
trate. Soon  he  learned,  to  his  dismay,  that  he  had  destroyed  a  bulb  worth 
four  thousand  florins  (sixteen  hundred  dollars).  He  was  lodged  in  prison 
until  securities  could  be  procured  for  the  payment  of  the  sum. 


9o  HANS   BRINKER 

"What,  the  weight  of  a  man?"  cried  Ben,  showing 
such  astonishment  in  his  eyes  that  Ludwig  fairly  ca- 
pered. 

"No,  no !  the  weight  of  a  bulb.  The  first  tulip  was 
sent  here  from  Constantinople,  about  the  year  1560.  It 
was  so  much  admired  that  the  rich  people  of  Amsterdam 
sent  to  Turkey  for  more.  From  that  time,  they  grew  to 
be  the  rage;  and  it  lasted  for  years.  Single  roots  brought 
from  one  to  four  thousand  florins;  and  one  bulb,  the 
Semper  Augustus,  brought  fifty-five  hundred." 

"That's  more  than  four  hundred  guineas  of  our  money," 
interposed  Ben. 

"Yes,  and  I  know  I'm  right;  for  I  read  it  in  a  transla- 
tion from  Beckman,  only  day  before  yesterday.  Well, 
sir,  it  was  great.  Every  one  speculated  in  tulips,  even 
the  bargemen  and  rag-women  and  chimney-sweeps.  The 
richest  merchants  were  not  ashamed  to  share  the  excite- 
ment. People  bought  bulbs,  and  sold  them  again  at  a 
tremendous  profit,  without  ever  seeing  them.  It  grew 
into  a  kind  of  gambling.  Some  became  rich  by  it  in  a 
few  days;  and  some  lost  everything  they  had.  Land, 
houses,  cattle  and  even  clothing,  went  for  tulips,  when 
people  had  no  ready  money.  Ladies  sold  their  jewels 
and  finery  to  enable  them  to  join  in  the  fun.  Nothing 
else  was  thought  of.  At  last  the  States-General  inter- 
fered. People  began  to  see  what  geese  they  were  making 
of  themselves;  and  down  went  the  price  of  tulips.  Old 
tulip-debts  couldn't  be  collected.  Creditors  went  to 


BIG  MANIAS  AND  LITTLE  ODDITIES     91 

law:  and  the  law  turned  its  back  upon  them;  debts 
made  in  gambling  were  not  binding,  it  said.  Then  there 
was  a  time ! — thousands  of  rich  speculators  reduced  to 
beggary  in  an  hour.  As  old  Beckman  says,  'the  bubble 
was  burst  at  last.' ' 

"Yes;  and  a  big  bubble  it  was,"  said  Ben,  who  had 
listened  with  great  interest.  "By  the  way,  did  you 
know  that  the  name  'tulip'  came  from  a  Turkish  word 
signifying  turban  ?  " 

"I  had  forgotten  that,"  answered  Lambert;  "but  it's 
a  capital  idea.  Just  fancy  a  party  of  Turks,  in  full  head- 
gear, squatted  upon  a  lawn, — perfect  tulip-bed !  Ha, 
ha  !  capital  idea !" 

["There,"  groaned  Ludwig  to  himself,  "he's  been  tell- 
ing Lambert  something  wonderful  about  tulips:  I  knew 
it!"] 

"The  fact  is,"  continued  Lambert,  "you  can  conjure 
up  quite  a  human  picture  out  of  a  tulip-bed  in  bloom, 
especially  when  it  is  nodding  and  bobbing  in  the  wind. 
Did  you  ever  notice  it  ?" 

"Not  I.  It  strikes  me,  Van  Mounen,  that  you  Hol- 
landers are  prodigiously  fond  of  the  flower  to  this 
day." 

"Certainly.  You  can't  have  a  garden  without  them, 
— prettiest  flower  that  grows,  7  think.  My  uncle  has 
a  magnificent  bed  of  the  finest  varieties  at  his  summer- 
house  on  the  other  side  of  Amsterdam." 

"I  thought  your  uncle  lived  in  the  city." 


92  HANS  BRINKER 

"So  he  does;  but  his  summer-house,  or  pavilion,  is  a 
few  miles  off.  He  has  another  one  built  out  over  the 
river.  We  passed  near  it  when  we  entered  the  city. 
Everybody  in  Amsterdam  has  a  pavilion  somewhere,  if 
he  can." 

"Do  they  ever  live  there?"  asked  Ben. 

"Bless  you,  no!  They  are  small  affairs,  suitable  only 
to  spend  a  few  hours  in  on  summer  afternoons.  There 
are  some  beautiful  ones  on  the  southern  end  of  the 
Haarlem  Lake:  now  that  they've  commenced  to  drain 
it  into  polders,  it  will  spoil  that  fun.  By  the  way,  we've 
passed  some  red-roofed  ones  since  we  left  home.  You 
noticed  them,  I  suppose,  with  their  little  bridges  and 
ponds  and  gardens,  and  their  mottoes  over  the  doorway." 

Ben  nodded. 

"They  make  but  little  show  now,"  continued  Lam- 
bert; "but  in  warm  weather  they  are  delightful.  After 
the  willows  sprout,  uncle  goes  to  his  summer-house  every 
afternoon.  He  dozes  and  smokes;  aunt  knits,  with  her 
feet  perched  upon  a  foot-stove,  never  mind  how  hot  the 
day;  my  cousin  Rika  and  the  other  girls  fish  in  the 
lake  from  the  windows,  or  chat  with  their  friends  row- 
ing by;  and  the  youngsters  tumble  about,  or  hang  upon 
the  little  bridges  over  the  ditch.  Then  they  have  coffee 
and  cakes,  besides  a  great  bunch  of  water-lilies  on  the 
table:  it's  very  fine,  I  can  tell  you;  only  (between  our- 
selves), though  I  was  born  here,  I  shall  never  fancy  the 
odor  of  stagnant  water  that  hangs  about  most  of  the 


BIG  MANIAS  AND  LITTLE  ODDITIES     93 

summer-houses.  Nearly  every  one  you  see  is  built  over 
a  ditch.  Probably  I  feel  it  more,  from  having  lived  so 
long  in  England." 

"Perhaps  I  shall  notice  it  too,"  said  Ben,  "if  a  thaw 
comes.  This  early  winter  has  covered  up  the  fragrant 
waters  for  my  benefit.  Much  obliged  to  it.  Holland 
without  this  glorious  skating  wouldn't  be  the  same  thing 
to  me  at  all." 

"How  very  different  you  are  from  the  Poots!"  ex- 
claimed Lambert,  who  had  been  listening  in  a  sort  of 
brown  study;  "and  yet  you  are  cousins.  I  cannot  under- 
stand it." 

"We  are  cousins,  or,  rather,  we  have  always  con- 
sidered ourselves  such;  but  the  relationship  is  not  very 
close.  Our  grandmothers  were  half-sisters.  My  side  of 
the  family  is  entirely  English,  while  his  is  entirely  Dutch. 
Old  Great-grandfather  Poot  married  twice,  you  see;  and 
I  am  a  descendant  of  his  English  wife.  I  like  Jacob, 
though,  better  than  half  of  my  English  cousins  put  to- 
gether. He  is  the  truest-hearted,  best-natured  boy  I 
ever  knew.  Strange  as  you  may  think  it,  my  father 
became  accidentally  acquainted  with  Jacob's  father  while 
on  a  business  visit  to  Rotterdam.  They  soon  talked 
over  their  relationship  (in  French,  by  the  way);  and 
they  have  corresponded  in  that  language  ever  since. 
Queer  things  come  about  in  this  world.  My  sister 
Jenny  would  open  her  eyes  at  some  of  Aunt  Poot's  ways. 
Aunt  is  a  thorough  lady,  but  so  different  from  mother! 


94  HANS  DRINKER 

And  the  house,  too,  and  furniture,  and  way  of  living: 
everything  is  different." 

"Of  course,"  assented  Lambert,  complacently,  as  if  to 
say,  "You  could  scarcely  expect  such  general  perfection 
anywhere  else  than  in  Holland;"  "but  you  will  have  all 
the  more  to  tell  Jenny  when  you  go  back." 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  I  can  say  one  thing, — if  cleanliness  is, 
as  they  claim,  next  to  godliness,  Broek  is  safe.  It  is  the 
cleanest  place  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  Why,  my  aunt 
Foot,  rich  as  she  is,  scrubs  half  the  time;  and  her  house 
looks  as  if  it  were  varnished  all  over.  I  wrote  to  mother 
yesterday  that  I  could  see  my  double  always  with 
me,  feet  to  feet,  in  the  polished  floor  of  the  dining- 


room." 


"Your  double  !  That  word  puzzles  me:  what  do  you 
mean?" 

"Oh !  my  reflection,  my  apparition, — Ben  Dobbs 
number  two." 

"Ah,  I  see!"  exclaimed  Van  Mounen.  "Have  you 
ever  been  in  your  aunt  Foot's  grand  parlor?" 

Ben  laughed.  "Only  once;  and  that  was  on  the  day 
of  my  arrival.  Jacob  says  I  shall  have  no  chance  of 
entering  it  again  until  the  time  of  his  sister  Kenau's  wed- 
ding,— the  week  after  Christmas.  Father  has  consented 
that  I  shall  remain  to  witness  the  great  event.  Every 
Saturday,  Aunt  Foot  and  her  fat  Kate  go  into  that  par- 
lor, and  sweep  and  polish  and  scrub;  then  it  is  darkened, 
and  closed  until  Saturday  comes  again:  not  a  soul  enters 


BIG  MANIAS  AND  LITTLE  ODDITIES     95 

it  in  the  mean  time.  But  the  schoonmaken  as  she  calls 
it,  must  be  done,  just  the  same." 

"That  is  nothing.  Every  parlor  in  Broek  meets  with 
the  same  treatment,"  said  Lambert.  "What  do  you 
think  of  those  moving  figures  in  her  neighbor's  gar- 
den?" 

"Oh !  they're  well  enough.  The  swans  must  seem 
really  alive,  gliding  about  the  pond  in  summer;  but  that 
nodding  mandarin  in  the  corner,  under  the  chestnut- 
trees,  is  ridiculous,  only  fit  for  children  to  laugh  at.  And 
then  the  stiff  garden-patches,  and  the  trees,  all  trimmed 
and  painted !  Excuse  me,  Van  Mounen;  but  I  shall 
never  learn  to  admire  Dutch  taste." 

"It  will  take  time,"  answered  Lambert,  condescend- 
ingly; "but  you  are  sure  to  agree  with  it  at  last.  I  saw 
much  to  admire  in  England,  and  I  hope  I  shall  be  sent 
back  with  you  to  study  at  Oxford;  but,  take  everything 
together,  I  like  Holland  better." 

"Of  course  you  do !"  said  Ben,  in  a  tone  of  hearty  ap- 
proval: "you  wouldn't  be  a  good  Hollander  if  you 
didn't.  Nothing  like  loving  one's  country.  It  is  strange, 
though,  to  have  such  a  warm  feeling  for  such  a  cold 
place.  If  we  were  not  exercising  all  the  time,  we  should 
freeze  outright." 

Lambert  laughed. 

"That's  your  English  blood,  Benjamin:  I'm  not  cold. 
And  look  at  the  skaters  here  on  the  canal !  they're  red 
as  roses,  and  happy  as  lords. — Halloo,  good  Captain  van 


96  HANS  DRINKER 

Holp !"  called  out  Lambert  in  Dutch:  "what  say  you  to 
stopping  at  yonder  farmhouse,  and  warming  our  toes  ?" 

"Who  is  cold?"  asked  Peter,  turning  around. 

"Benjamin  Dobbs." 

"Benjamin  Dobbs  shall  be  warmed;"  and  the  party 
was  brought  to  a  halt. 


XII 

ON  THE   WAY  TO  HAARLEM 

ON  approaching  the  door  of  the  farmhouse,  the  boys 
suddenly  found  themselves  in  the  midst  of  a  lively  do- 
mestic scene.  A  burly  Dutchman  came  rushing  out, 
closely  followed  by  his  dear  vrouw  ;  and  she  was  beat- 
ing him  smartly  with  a  long-handled  warming-pan.  The 
expression  on  her  face  gave  our  boys  so  little  promise  of 
a  kind  reception  that  they  prudently  resolved  to  carry 
their  toes  elsewhere  to  be  warmed. 

The  next  cottage  proved  to  be  more  inviting.  Its 
low  roof  of  bright  red  tiles  extended  over  the  cow-stable, 
that,  clean  as  could  be,  nestled  close  to  the  main  build- 
ing. A  neat,  peaceful-looking  old  woman  sat  at  one 
window,  knitting.  At  the  other  could  be  discerned  part 
of  the  profile  of  a  fat  figure,  that,  pipe  in  mouth,  sat  be- 
hind the  shining  little  panes  and  snowy  curtain.  In 
answer  to  Peter's  subdued  knock,  a  fair-haired,  rosy- 
cheeked  lass,  in  holiday  attire,  opened  the  upper  half  of 
the  green  door,  and  inquired  their  errand.  The  band 
over  her  right  temple  showed  that  she  was  unmarried. 

97 


98  HANS  BRINKER 

"May  we  enter  and  warm  ourselves,  jufvrouw?" 
asked  the  captain,  respectfully. 

"Yes,  and  welcome,"  was  the  reply,  as  the  lower  half 
of  the  door  swung  open.  Every  boy,  before  entering, 
rubbed  long  and  faithfully  upon  the  rough  mat  within; 
and  each  made  his  best  bow  to  the  old  lady  and  gentle- 
man at  the  windows.  Ben  was  half  inclined  to  think 
that  these  personages  were  automata,  like  the  moving 
figures  in  the  garden  at  Broek;  for  they  both  nodded  their 
heads  slowly,  in  precisely  the  same  way,  and  both  went 
on  with  their  employment  as  steadily  and  stiffly  as  though 
they  worked  by  machinery.  The  old  man  puffed,  puffed; 
and  his  vrouw  clicked  her  knitting-needles,  as  if  regulated 
by  internal  cog-wheels.  Even  the  real  smoke  issuing  from 
the  motionless  pipe  gave  no  convincing  proof  that  they 
were  human. 

But  the  rosy-cheeked  maiden !  Ah,  how  she  bustled 
about !  How  she  gave  the  boys  polished,  high-backed 
chairs  to  sit  upon !  How  she  made  the  fire  blaze  up  as  if 
it  were  inspired  !  How  she  made  Jacob  Foot  almost 
weep  for  joy  by  bringing  forth  a  great  square  of  ginger- 
bread, and  a  stone  jug  of  sour  wine !  How  she  laughed 
and  nodded  as  the  boys  ate  like  wild  animals  on  good 
behavior !  And  how  blank  she  looked  when  Ben  politely 
but  firmly  refused  to  take  any  black-bread  and  sour- 
krout !  How  she  pulled  off  Jacob's  mitten,  which  was 
torn  at  the  thumb,  and  mended  it  before  his  eyes,  biting 
off  the  thread  with  her  white  teeth,  and  saying,  "Now 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  HAARLEM  99 

it  will  be  warmer/'  as  she  bit !  and,  finally,  how  she  shook 
hands  with  every  boy  in  turn,  and,  throwing  a  depre- 
cating glance  at  the  female  automaton,  insisted  upon 
filling  their  pockets  with  gingerbread  ! 

All  this  time  the  knitting-needles  clicked  on,  and  the 
pipe  never  missed  a  puff. 

When  the  boys  were  fairly  on  their  way  again,  they 
came  in  sight  of  Zwanenburg  Castle,  with  its  massive 
stone  front,  and  its  gateway  towers,  each  surmounted 
with  a  sculptured  swan. 

"Halfweg,1  boys,"  said  Peter,  "off  with  your  skates!" 

"You  see,"  explained  Lambert  to  his  companion, 
"the  Y  and  the  Haarlem  Lake,  meeting  here,  make  it 
rather  troublesome.  The  river  is  five  feet  higher  than 
the  land;  so  we  must  have  everything  strong  in  the  way 
of  dikes  and  sluice-gates,  or  there  would  be  wet  work 
at  once.  The  sluice  arrangements  here  are  supposed  to 
be  something  extra.  We  will  walk  over  them,  and  you 
shall  see  enough  to  make  you  open  your  eyes.  The 
spring  water  of  the  lake,  they  say,  has  the  most  won- 
derful bleaching  powers  of  any  in  the  world:  all  the 
great  Haarlem  bleacheries  use  it.  I  can't  say  much 
upon  that  subject;  but  I  can  tell  you  one  thing  from 
personal  experience." 

"What  is  that?" 

"Why,  the  lake  is  full  of  the  biggest  eels  you  ever  saw. 
I've  caught  them  here,  often — perfectly  prodigious !  I 

1  Half-way. 


ioo  HANS  BRINKER 

tell  you  they're  sometimes  a  match  for  a  fellow:  they'd 
almost  wriggle  your  arm  from  the  socket,  if  you  were 
not  on  your  guard.  But  you're  not  interested  in  eels, 
I  perceive.  The  castle's  a  big  affair,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes.  What  do  those  swans  mean?  Anything?" 
asked  Ben,  looking  up  at  the  stone  gate-towers. 

"The  swan  is  held  almost  in  reverence  by  us  Hol- 
landers. These  give  the  building  its  name,  Zwanen- 
burg — swan-castle.  That  is  all  I  know.  This  is  a  very 
important  spot;  for  it  is  here  that  the  wise  ones  hold 
council  with  regard  to  dike  matters.  The  castle  was  once 
the  residence  of  the  celebrated  Christiaan  Briinings." 

"What  about  him?"  asked  Ben. 

"Peter  could  answer  you  better  than  I,"  said  Lam- 
bert, "if  you  could  only  understand  each  other;  or 
were  not  such  cowards  about  leaving  your  mother- 
tongues.  But  I  have  often  heard  my  grandfather  speak 
of  Briinings.  He  is  never  tired  of  telling  us  of  the  great 
engineer:  how  good  he  was,  and  how  learned;  and  how, 
when  he  died,  the  whole  country  seemed  to  mourn  as 
for  a  friend.  He  belonged  to  a  great  many  learned  so- 
cieties, and  was  at  the  head  of  the  State  Department, 
intrusted  with  the  care  of  the  dikes,  and  other  defences 
against  the  sea.  There's  no  counting  the  improvements 
he  made  in  dikes  and  sluices  and  water-mills,  and  all 
that  kind  of  thing.  We  Hollanders,  you  know,  consider 
our  great  engineers  as  the  highest  of  public  benefactors. 
Briinings  died  years  ago:  they've  a  monument  to  his 


ON  THE  WAY  TO  'HAARLEM  '•'',(':>/,  101 

memory  in  the  cathedral  of  Haarlem.  I  have  seen  his 
portrait;  and  I  tell  you,  Ben,  he  was  right  noble-looking. 
No  wonder  the  castle  looks  so  stiff  and  proud  !  It  is 
something  to  have  given  shelter  to  such  a  man!" 

"Yes,  indeed!"  said  Ben.  "I  wonder,  Van  Mounen, 
whether  you  or  I  will  ever  give  any  old  building  a  right 
to  feel  proud.  Heigho !  There's  a  great  deal  to  be  done 
yet  in  this  world;  and  some  of  us  who  are  boys  now  will 
have  to  do  it.  Look  to  your  shoe-latchet,  Van;  it's 
unfastened." 


XIII 

A   CATASTROPHE 

IT  was  nearly  one  o'clock  when  Captain  van  Holp 
and  his  command  entered  the  grand  old  city  of  Haar- 
lem. They  had  skated  nearly  seventeen  miles  since 
morning,  and  were  still  as  fresh  as  young  eagles.  From 
the  youngest  (Ludwig  van  Holp,  who  was  just  four- 
teen) to  the  eldest  (no  less  a  personage  than  the  captain 
himself,  a  veteran  of  seventeen),  there  was  but  one 
opinion, — that  this  was  the  greatest  frolic  of  their  lives. 
To  be  sure,  Jacob  Foot  had  become  rather  short  of 
breath  during  the  last  mile  or  two,  and  perhaps  he  felt 
ready  for  another  nap;  but  there  was  enough  jollity  in 
him  yet  for  a  dozen.  Even  Carl  Schummel,  who  had 
become  very  intimate  with  Ludwig  during  the  excur- 
sion, forgot  to  be  ill-natured.  As  for  Peter,  he  was  the 
happiest  of  the  happy;  his  joyous  song  and  merry  whistle, 
as  he  skated  along,  had  cheered  many  a  passer-by  that  day. 

"Come,  boys,  it's  nearly  f^EnMiour,"  he  said,  as  they 

1  Lunch. 

102 


A  CATASTROPHE  103 

neared  a  coffee-house  on  the  main  street.  "We  must 
have  something  more  solid  than  the  pretty  maiden's 
gingerbread;"  and  the  captain  plunged  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  as  if  to  say,  "There's  money  enough  here  to 
feed  an  army !" 

"Halloo!"  cried  Lambert.     "What  ails  the  man?" 

Peter,  pale  and  staring,  was  clapping  his  hands  upon 
his  breast  and  sides:  he  looked  like  one  suddenly  be- 
coming deranged. 

"He's  sick!"  cried  Ben. 

"No,  he's  lost  something,"  said  Carl. 

Peter  could  only  gasp,  "The  pocket-book,  with  all 
our  money  in  it — it's  gone!" 

For  an  instant,  all  were  too  much  startled  to 
speak. 

Carl  at  last  came  out  with  a  gruff— 

"No  sense  in  letting  one  fellow  have  all  the  money. 
I  said  so  from  the  first.  Look  in  your  other  pocket." 

"I  did:  it  isn't  there." 

"Open  your  under  jacket." 

Peter  obeyed  mechanically.  He  even  took  off  his  hat, 
and  looked  into  it,  then  thrust  his  hand  desperately 
into  every  pocket. 

"It's  gone,  boys,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  hopeless  tone. 
"No  tiffin  for  us,  nor  dinner  either.  What  is  to  be  done  ? 
We  can't  get  on  without  money.  If  we  were  in  Amster- 
dam, I  could  get  as  much  as  we  want;  but  there  is  not 
a  man  in  Haarlem  from  whom  I  can  borrow  a  stiver. 


io4  HANS  BRINKER 

Don't  one  of  you  know  any  one  here  who  would  lend  us 
a  few  guilders  ?" 

Each  boy  looked  into  five  blank  faces.  Then  some- 
thing like  a  smile  passed  around  the  circle;  but  it  got 
sadly  knotted  up  when  it  reached  Carl. 

"That  wouldn't  do,"  he  said  crossly.  "I  know  some 
people  here,  rich  ones  too;  but  father  would  flog  me 
soundly  if  I  borrowed  a  cent  from  any  one.  He  has  'AN 
HONEST  MAN  NEED  NOT  BORROW/  written  over  the  gate- 
way of  his  summer-house." 

"Humph!"  responded  Peter,  not  particularly  ad- 
miring the  sentiment  just  at  that  moment. 

The  boys  grew  desperately  hungry  at  once. 

"It  wash  my  fault,"  said  Jacob  in  a  penitent  tone  to 
Ben.  "I  say  first,  'Fetter  all  de  boys  put  zair  pursh  into 
VanHolp'smonish.'" 

"Nonsense,  Jacob  !  you  did  it  all  for  the  best." 

Ben  said  this  in  such  a  sprightly  tone  that  the  two 
Van  Holps  and  Carl  felt  sure  he  had  proposed  a  plan 
that  would  relieve  the  party  at  once. 

"What,  what?    Tell  us,  Van  Mounen,"  they  cried. 

"He  says  it  is  not  Jacob's  fault  that  the  money  is  lost; 
that  he  did  it  for  the  best,  when  he  proposed  that  Van 
Holp  should  put  all  of  our  money  into  his  purse." 

"Is  that  all?"  said  Ludwig,  dismally.  "He  need  not 
have  made  such  a  fuss  in  just  saying  that.  How  much 
money  have  we  lost?" 

"Don't  you  remember?"  said  Peter.     "We  each  put 


A  CATASTROPHE  105 

in  exactly  ten  guilders.  The  purse  had  sixty  guilders 
in  it.  I  am  the  stupidest  fellow  in  the  world.  Little 
Schimmelpenninck  would  have  made  you  a  better  cap- 
tain. I  could  pommel  myself  for  bringing  such  a  dis- 
appointment upon  you." 

"Do  it,  then!"  growled  Carl.  "Pooh!"  he  added, 
"we  all  know  it  was  an  accident;  but  that  doesn't  help 
matters.  We  must  have  money,  Van  Holp,  even  if  you 
have  to  sell  your  wonderful  watch." 

"Sell  my  mother's  birthday  present?  Never!  I  will 
sell  my  coat,  my  hat — anything  but  my  watch." 

"Come,  come,"  said  Jacob,  pleasantly:  "we  are  mak- 
ing too  much  of  this  affair.  We  can  go  home,  and  start 
again  in  a  day  or  two." 

"You  may  be  able  to  get  another  ten-guilder  piece," 
said  Carl;  "but  the  rest  of  us  will  not  find  it  so  easy. 
If  we  go  home,  we  stay  home,  you  may  depend." 

Our  captain,  whose  good-nature  had  not  yet  forsaken 
him  for  a  moment,  grew  indignant. 

"Do  you  think  I  will  let  you  suffer  for  my  careless- 
ness ?"  he  exclaimed.  "I  have  three  times  sixty  guilders 
in  my  strong  box  at  home!" 

"Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Carl,  hastily,  adding, 
in  a  surlier  tone,  "well,  I  see  no  better  way  than  to  go 
back  hungry." 

"I  see  a  better  plan  than  that,"  said  the  captain. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  all  the  boys. 

"Why,  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad  business,  and  go 


106  HANS  BRINKER 

back  pleasantly,  and  like  men,"  said  Peter,  looking  so 
gallant  and  handsome,  as  he  turned  his  frank  face  and 
clear  blue  eyes  upon  them,  that  they  caught  his  spirit. 

"Ho,  for  the  captain!"  they  shouted. 

"Now,  boys,  we  may  as  well  make  up  our  minds  there's 
no  place  like  Broek,  after  all;  and  that  we  mean  to  be 
there  in  two  hours.  Is  that  agreed  to?" 

"Agreed  !"  cried  all,  as  they  ran  to  the  canal. 

"On  with  your  skates  !  Are  you  ready  ?  Here,  Jacob, 
let  me  help  you." 

"Now.    One,  two,  three,  start!" 

And  the  boyish  faces  that  left  Haarlem  at  that  signal 
were  nearly  as  bright  as  those  that  had  entered  it  with 
Captain  Peter  half  an  hour  before. 


XIV 

HANS 

"DoNDER  and  Blixin!"  cried  Carl,  angrily,  before  the 
party  had  skated  twenty  yards  from  the  city  gates,  "if 
here  isn't  that  wooden-skate  ragamuffin  in  the  patched 
leather  breeches !  That  fellow  is  everywhere,  confound 
him !  We'll  be  lucky,"  he  added,  in  as  sneering  a  tone 
as  he  dared  to  assume,  "if  our  captain  doesn't  order  us 
to  halt  and  shake  hands  with  him." 

"Your  captain  is  a  terrible  fellow,"  said  Peter, 
pleasantly.  "But  this  is  a  false  alarm,  Carl:  I  can- 
not spy  your  bugbear  anywhere  among  the  skaters. 
Ah,  there  he  is !  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the 
lad?" 

Poor  Hans !  His  face  was  pale,  his  lips  compressed. 
He  skated  like  one  under  the  effects  of  a  fearful  dream. 
Just  as  he  was  passing,  Peter  hailed  him. 

"Good-day,  Hans  Brinker!" 

Hans's  countenance  brightened  at  once.  "Ah,  myn- 
heer !  Is  that  you  ?  It  is  well  we  meet !" 

"Just  like  his  impertinence!"  hissed  Carl  Schummel, 

107 


io8  HANS   BRINKER 

darting  scornfully  past  his  companions,  who  seemed  in- 
clined to  linger  with  their  captain. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Hans,"  responded  Peter,  cheerily; 
"but  you  look  troubled.  Can  I  serve  you  ?" 

"I  have  a  trouble,  mynheer,"  answered  Hans,  casting 
down  his  eyes.  Then,  lifting  them  again  with  almost  a 
happy  expression,  he  added,  "But  it  is  Hans  who  can 
help  Mynheer  van  Holp  this  time." 

"How?"  asked  Peter,  making,  in  his  blunt  Dutch 
way,  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  surprise. 

"By  giving  you  this,  mynheer;"  and  Hans  held  forth 
the  missing  purse. 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  the  boys,  taking  their  cold  hands 
from  their  pockets  to  wave  them  joyfully  in  the  air.  But 
Peter  said,  "I  thank  you,  Hans  Brinker!"  in  a  tone  that 
made  Hans  feel  as  if  the  king  had  bowed  to  him. 

The  shout  of  the  delighted  boys  reached  the  muffled 
ears  of  the  fine  young  gentleman,  who,  under  a  full  pres- 
sure of  pent-up  wrath,  was  skating  toward  Amsterdam. 
A  Yankee  boy  would  have  wheeled  about  at  once,  and 
hastened  to  satisfy  his  curiosity.  But  Carl  only  halted, 
and,  with  his  back  toward  his  party,  wondered  what  on 
earth  had  happened.  There  he  stood,  immovable,  until, 
feeling  sure  that  nothing  but  the  prospect  of  something 
to  eat  could  have  made  them  hurrah  so  heartily,  he 
turned,  and  skated  slowly  toward  his  excited  comrades. 

Meantime  Peter  had  drawn  Hans  aside  from  the 
rest. 


HANS  109 

"How  did  you  know  it  was  my  purse  ?"  he  asked. 

"You  paid  me  three  guilders  yesterday,  mynheer,  for 
making  the  whitewood  chain,  telling  me  that  I  must  buy 
skates." 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"I  saw  your  purse  then:    it  was  of  yellow  leather." 

"And  where  did  you  find  it  to-day?" 

"I  left  my  home  this  morning,  mynheer,  in  great 
trouble;  and,  as  I  skated,  I  took  no  heed,  until  I  stumbled 
against  some  lumber,  and,  while  I  was  rubbing  my  knee, 
I  saw  your  purse,  nearly  hidden  under  a  log." 

"That  place !  Ah,  I  remember  now;  just  as  we  were 
passing  it,  I  pulled  my  tippet  from  my  pocket,  and  prob- 
ably flirted  out  the  purse  at  the  same  time.  It  would 
have  been  gone  but  for  you,  Hans.  Here,"  pouring  out 
the  contents,  "you  must  give  us  the  pleasure  of  dividing 
the  money  with  you." 

"No,  mynheer,"  answered  Hans.  He  spoke  quietly, 
without  pretence  or  any  grace  of  manner;  but  Peter, 
somehow,  felt  rebuked,  and  put  the  silver  back  with- 
out a  word. 

"I  like  that  boy,  rich  or  poor,"  he  thought  to  himself, 
then  added  aloud,  "May  I  ask  about  this  trouble  of 
yours,  Hans  ?" 

"Ah,  mynheer !  it  is  a  sad  case.  But  I  have  waited 
here  too  long.  I  am  going  to  Leyden  to  see  the  great  Dr. 
Boekman." 

"Dr.  Boekman!"  exclaimed  Peter,  in  astonishment. 


no  HANS  DRINKER 

"Yes,  mynheer;  and  I  have  not  a  moment  to  lose. 
Good-day!" 

"Stay:  I  am  going  that  way. — Come,  my  lads!  Shall 
we  return  to  Haarlem?" 

"Yes!"  cried  the  boys,  eagerly;    and  off  they  started. 

"Now,"  said  Peter,  drawing  near  Hans,  both  skim- 
ming the  ice  so  easily  and  lightly  as  they  skated  on  to- 
gether, that  they  seemed  scarce  conscious  of  moving, 
"we  are  going  to  stop  at  Leyden;  and,  if  you  are  going 
there  only  with  a  message  to  Dr.  Boekman,  cannot  I  do 
the  errand  for  you  ?  The  boys  may  be  too  tired  to  skate 
so  far  to-day;  but  I  will  promise  to  see  him  early  to- 
morrow, if  he  is  to  be  found  in  the  city." 

"Ah,  mynheer !  that  would  be  serving  me  indeed.  It 
is  not  the  distance  I  dread,  but  leaving  my  mother  so 
long." 

"Is  she  ill?" 

"No,  mynheer.  It  is  the  father.  You  may  have  heard 
it, — how  he  has  been  without  wit  for  many  a  year,  ever 
since  the  great  Schlossen  Mill  was  built;  but  his  body  has 
been  well  and  strong.  Last  night  the  mother  knelt  upon 
the  hearth  to  blow  the  peat  (it  is  his  only  delight  to  sit 
and  watch  the  live  embers;  and  she  will  blow  them  into 
a  blaze  every  hour  of  the  day,  to  please  him).  Before 
she  could  stir,  he  sprang  upon  her  like  a  giant,  and  held 
her  close  to  the  fire,  all  the  time  laughing,  and  shaking 
his  head.  I  was  on  the  canal;  but  I  heard  the  mother 
scream,  and  ran  to  her.  The  father  had  never  loosened 


HANS  in 

his  hold;  and  her  gown  was  smoking.  I  tried  to  deaden 
the  fire;  but  with  one  hand  he  pushed  me  off.  There 
was  no  water  in  the  cottage,  or  I  could  have  done  better; 
and  all  that  time  he  laughed,  such  a  terrible  laugh,  myn- 
heer !  Hardly  a  sound,  but  all  in  his  face.  I  tried  to  pull 
her  away;  but  that  only  made  it  worse.  Then — it  was 
dreadful;  but  could  I  see  the  mother  burn  ? — I  beat  him, — 
beat  him  with  a  stool.  He  tossed  me  away.  The  gown 
was  on  fire.  I  would  put  it  out.  I  can't  remember  well 
after  that:  I  found  myself  upon  the  floor,  and  the  mother 
was  praying.  It  seemed  to  me  that  she  was  in  a  blaze; 
and,  all  the  while,  I  could  hear  that  laugh.  My  sister 
Gretel  screamed  out  that  he  was  holding  the  mother 
close  to  the  very  coals :  I  could  not  tell !  Gretel  flew  to 
the  closet,  and  filled  a  porringer  with  the  food  he  liked, 
and  put  it  upon  the  floor.  Then,  mynheer,  he  left  the 
mother,  and  crawled  to  it  like  a  little  child.  She  was 
not  burnt,  only  a  part  of  her  clothing.  Ah,  how  kind  she 
was  to  him  all  night !  watching  and  tending  him.  He 
slept  in  a  high  fever,  with  his  hand  pressed  to  his  head. 
The  mother  says  he  has  done  that  so  much  of  late,  as 
though  he  felt  pain  there.  Ah,  mynheer,  I  did  not  mean 
to  tell  you.  If  the  father  was  himself,  he  would  not  harm 
even  a  kitten." 

For  a  moment  the  two  boys  moved  on  in  silence. 

"It  is  terrible,"  said  Peter  at  last.    "How  is  he  to-day  ?" 

"Very  sick,  mynheer." 

"Why  go  for  Dr.  Boekman,  Hans !    There  are  others 


ii2  HANS  DRINKER 

in  Amsterdam  who  could  help  him,  perhaps.  Boekman 
is  a  famous  man,  sought  only  by  the  wealthiest;  and 
they  often  wait  upon  him  in  vain." 

"He  promised,  mynheer:  he  promised  me  yesterday 
to  come  to  the  father  in  a  week.  But,  now  that  the 
change  has  come,  we  cannot  wait — we  think  the  poor 
father  is  dying.  Oh,  mynheer!  you  can  plead  with  him 
to  come  quick.  He  will  not  wait  a  whole  week,  and  our 
father  dying,  the  good  meester  is  so  kind/' 

"So  kind!"  echoed  Peter,  in  astonishment.  "Why, 
he  is  known  as  the  Grossest  man  in  Holland !" 

"He  looks  so  because  he  has  no  fat,  and  his  head  is 
busy;  but  his  heart  is  kind,  I  know.  Tell  the  meester 
what  I  have  told  you,  mynheer,  and  he  will  come." 

"I  hope  so,  Hans,  with  all  my  heart.  You  are  in  haste 
to  turn  homeward,  I  see.  Promise  me,  that,  should  you 
need  a  friend,  you  will  go  to  my  mother,  at  Broek.  Tell 
her  I  bade  you  see  her.  And,  Hans  Brinker,  not  as  a 
reward,  but  as  a  gift,  take  a  few  of  these  guilders." 

Hans  shook  his  head  resolutely. 

"No,  no,  mynheer!  I  cannot  take  it.  If  I  could  find 
work  in  Broek,  or  at  the  South  Mill,  I  would  be  glad. 
But  it  is  the  same  story  everywhere — 'Wait  till  spring." 

"It  is  well  you  speak  of  it,"  said  Peter,  eagerly;  "for 
my  father  needs  help  at  once.  Your  pretty  chain  pleased 
him  much.  He  said,  'That  boy  has  a  clean  cut:  he  would 
be  good  at  carving. '  There  is  to  be  a  carved  portal  to  our 
new  summer-house;  and  father  will  pay  well  for  the  job." 


HANS  113 

"God  is  good!"  cried  Hans,  in  sudden  delight.  "Oh, 
mynheer,  that  would  be  too  much  joy !  I  have  never 
tried  big  work;  but  I  can  do  it,  I  know  I  can." 

"Well,  tell  my  father  you  are  the  Hans  Brinker  of 
whom  I  spoke.  He  will  be  glad  to  serve  you." 

Hans  stared  in  honest  surprise. 

"Thank  you,  mynheer!" 

"Now,  captain,"  shouted  Carl,  anxious  to  appear  as 
good-humored  as  possible,  by  way  of  atonement,  "here 
we  are  in  the  midst  of  Haarlem,  and  no  word  from  you 
yet.  We  await  your  orders;  and  we're  as  hungry  as 
wolves." 

Peter  made  a  cheerful  answer,  and  turned  hurriedly 
to  Hans. 

"Come,  get  something  to  eat,  and  I  will  detain  you 
no  longer." 

What  a  quick,  wistful  look  Hans  threw  upon  him ! 
Peter  wondered  that  he  had  not  noticed  before  that  the 
poor  boy  was  hungry. 

"Ah,  mynheer!  even  now  the  mother  may  need  me: 
the  father  may  be  worse.  I  must  not  wait.  May  God 
care  for  you!"  And,  nodding  hastily,  Hans  turned  his 
face  homeward,  and  was  gone. 

"Come,  boys,"  sighed  Peter,  "now  for  our  tiffin!" 


XV 

HOMES 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  our  young  Dutchmen 
had  already  forgotten  the  great  skating-race  which  was 
to  take  place  on  the  2Oth.  On  the  contrary,  they  had 
thought  and  spoken  of  it  very  often  during  the  day. 
Even  Ben,  though  he  had  felt  more  like  a  traveller  than 
the  rest,  had  never  once,  through  all  the  sight-seeing, 
lost  a  certain  vision  of  silver  skates,  which  for  a  week 
past  had  haunted  him  night  and  day. 

Like  a  true  "John  Bull,"  as  Jacob  had  called  him,  he 
never  doubted  that  his  English  fleetness,  English  strength, 
English  everything,  could  at  any  time  enable  him,  on 
the  ice,  to  put  all  Holland  to  shame,  and  the  rest  of  the 
world  too,  for  that  matter.  Ben  certainly  was  a  superb 
skater.  He  had  enjoyed  not  half  the  opportunities  for 
practising  that  had  fallen  to  his  new  comrades;  but  he 
had  improved  his  share  to  the  utmost;  and  was,  besides, 
so  strong  of  frame,  so  supple  of  limb,  in  short,  such  a 

tight,  trim,  quick,  graceful  fellow  in  every  way,  that  he 

114 


HOMES  115 

had  taken  to  skating  as  naturally  as  a  chamois  to  leap- 
ing, or  an  eagle  to  soaring. 

Only  to  the  heavy  heart  of  poor  Hans  had  the  vision 
of  the  silver  skates  failed  to  appear  during  that  starry 
winter  night  and  the  brighter  sunlit  day. 

Even  Gretel  had  seen  them  flitting  before  her  as  she 
sat  beside  her  mother  through  those  hours  of  weary 
watching, — not  as  prizes  to  be  won,  but  as  treasures 
passing  hopelessly  beyond  her  reach. 

Rychie,  Hilda  and  Katrinka — why,  they  had  scarcely 
known  any  other  thought  than  "the  race,  the  race!  It 
will  come  off  on  the  2Oth  !" 

These  three  girls  were  friends.  Though  of  nearly  the 
same  age,  talent  and  station,  they  were  as  different  as 
girls  could  be. 

Hilda  van  Gleck  you  already  know, — a  warm-hearted, 
noble  girl  of  fourteen.  Rychie  Korbes  was  beautiful  to 
look  upon,  far  more  sparkling  and  pretty  than  Hilda, 
but  not  half  so  bright  and  sunny  within.  Clouds  of  pride, 
of  discontent  and  envy,  had  already  gathered  in  her 
heart,  and  were  growing  bigger  and  darker  every  day. 
Of  course,  these  often  relieved  themselves,  very  much 
after  the  manner  of  other  clouds.  But  who  saw  the 
storms  and  the  weeping  ?  Only  her  maid,  or  her  father, 
mother  and  little  brother, — those  who  loved  her  better 
than  all.  Like  other  clouds,  too,  hers  often  took  queer 
shapes;  and  what  was  really  but  mist  and  vapory  fancy 
assumed  the  appearance  of  monster  wrongs  and  moun- 


ii6  HANS  DRINKER 

tains  of  difficulty.  To  her  mind,  the  poor  peasant-girl 
Gretel  was  not  a  human  being,  a  God-created  creature 
like  herself:  she  was  only  something  that  meant  "pov- 
erty, rags  and  dirt."  Such  as  Gretel  had  no  right  to 
feel,  to  hope:  above  all,  they  should  never  cross  the 
paths  of  their  betters;  that  is,  not  in  a  disagreeable  way. 
They  could  toil  and  labor  for  them  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance, even  admire  them,  if  they  would  do  it  humbly, 
but  nothing  more.  If  they  rebel,  put  them  down:  if 
they  suffer,  don't  trouble  me  about  it,  was  Rychie's 
secret  motto.  And  yet  how  witty  she  was !  how  taste- 
fully she  dressed  !  how  charmingly  she  sang !  how  much 
feeling  she  displayed  (for  pet  kittens  and  rabbits  !)  and 
how  completely  she  could  bewitch  sensible,  honest- 
minded  lads  like  Lambert  van  Mounen  and  Ludwig 
van  Holp ! 

Carl  was  too  much  like  her,  within,  to  be  an  earnest 
admirer;  and  perhaps  he  suspected  the  clouds.  He, 
being  deep  and  surly,  and  always  uncomfortably  in 
earnest,  of  course  preferred  the  lively  Katrinka,  whose 
nature  was  made  of  a  hundred  tinkling  bells.  She  was 
a  coquette  in  her  infancy,  a  coquette  in  her  childhood, 
and  now  a  coquette  in  her  school-days.  Without  a 
thought  of  harm,  she  coquetted  with  her  studies,  her 
duties,  even  her  little  troubles.  They  shouldn't  know 
when  they  bothered  her,  not  they.  She  coquetted  with 
her  mother,  her  pet  lamb,  her  baby  brother,  even  with 
her  own  golden  curls,  tossing  them  back  as  if  she  des- 


HOMES  117 

pised  them.  Every  one  liked  her;  but  who  could  love 
her  ?  She  was  never  in  earnest.  A  pleasant  face,  a 
pleasant  heart,  a  pleasant  manner, — these  only  satisfy 
for  an  hour.  Poor,  happy  Katrinka  !  Such  as  she  tinkle, 
tinkle,  so  merrily  through  their  early  days.  But  life  is 
so  apt  to  coquet  with  them,  in  turn,  to  put  all  their  sweet 
bells  out  of  tune,  or  to  silence  them  one  by  one ! 

How  different  were  the  homes  of  these  three  girls  from 
the  tumbling  old  cottage  where  Gretel  dwelt !  Rychie 
lived  in  a  beautiful  house  near  Amsterdam,  where  the 
carved  sideboards  were  laden  with  services  of  silver  and 
gold,  and  where  silken  tapestries  hung  in  folds  from 
ceiling  to  floor. 

Hilda's  father  owned  the  largest  mansion  in  Broek. 
Its  glittering  roof  of  polished  tiles,  and  its  boarded  front, 
painted  in  half  a  dozen  various  colors,  were  the  admira- 
tion of  the  neighborhood. 

Katrinka's  home,  not  a  mile  distant,  was  the  finest  of 
Dutch  country-seats.  The  garden  was  so  stiffly  laid  out 
in  little  paths  and  patches  that  the  birds  might  have 
mistaken  it  for  a  great  Chinese  puzzle,  with  all  the  pieces 
spread  out  ready  for  use.  But  in  summer  it  was  beau- 
tiful. The  flowers  made  the  best  of  their  stiff  quarters, 
and,  when  the  gardener  was  not  watching,  glowed  and 
bent  and  twined  about  each  other  in  the  prettiest  way 
imaginable.  Such  a  tulip-bed !  Why,  the  queen  of  the 
fairies  would  never  care  for  a  grander  city  in  which  to 
hold  her  court !  But  Katrinka  preferred  the  bed  of  pink- 


n8  HANS   BRINKER 

and-white  hyacinths.  She  loved  their  freshness  and 
fragrance,  and  the  light-hearted  way  in  which  their  bell- 
shaped  blossoms  swung  in  the  breeze. 

Carl  was  both  right  and  wrong  when  he  said  that 
Katrinka  and  Rychie  were  furious  at  the  very  idea  of 
the  peasant  Gretel  joining  in  the  race.  He  had  heard 
Rychie  declare  it  was  "disgraceful,  shameful,  too  bad  !" 
which  in  Dutch,  as  in  English,  is  generally  the  strongest 
expression  an  indignant  girl  can  use.  And  he  had  seen 
Katrinka  nod  her  pretty  head,  and  heard  her  sweetly 
echo,  "Shameful,  too  bad!"  as  nearly  like  Rychie  as 
tinkling  bells  can  be  like  the  voice  of  real  anger.  That 
had  satisfied  him.  He  never  suspected,  that  had  Hilda, 
not  Rychie,  first  talked  with  Katrinka  upon  the  subject, 
the  bells  would  have  jingled  as  willing  an  echo.  She 
would  have  said,  "Certainly,  let  her  join  us,"  and  would 
have  skipped  off",  thinking  no  more  about  it.  But  now 
Katrinka,  with  sweet  emphasis,  pronounced  it  a  shame 
that  a  goose-girl,  a  forlorn  little  creature  like  Gretel, 
should  be  allowed  to  spoil  the  race. 

Rychie,  being  rich  and  powerful  (  in  a  school-girl  way), 
had  other  followers  besides  Katrinka,  who  were  induced 
to  share  her  opinions,  because  they  were  either  too  care- 
less or  too  cowardly  to  think  for  themselvs. 

Poor  little  Gretel !  Her  home  was  sad  and  dark  enough 
now.  Raff  Brinker  lay  moaning  upon  his  rough  bed; 
and  his  vrouw>  forgetting  and  forgiving  everything, 
bathed  his  forehead,  his  lips,  weeping,  and  praying  that 


HOMES  119 

he  might  not  die.  Hans,  as  we  know,  had  started  in 
desperation  for  Leyden,  to  search  for  Dr.  Boekman, 
and  induce  him,  if  possible,  to  come  to  their  father  at 
once.  Gretel,  filled  with  a  strange  dread,  had  done  the 
work  as  well  as  she  could,  wiped  the  rough  brick  floor, 
brought  peat  to  build  up  the  slow  fire,  and  melted  ice 
for  her  mother's  use.  This  accomplished,  she  seated  her- 
self upon  a  low  stool  near  the  bed,  and  begged  her  mother 
to  try  and  sleep  a  while. 

"You  are  so  tired!"  she  whispered.  "Not  once  have 
you  closed  your  eyes  since  that  dreadful  hour  last  night. 
See,  I  have  straightened  the  willow-bed  in  the  corner, 
and  spread  everything  soft  upon  it  I  could  find,  so  that 
the  mother  might  lie  in  comfort.  Here  is  your  jacket. 
Take  off  that  pretty  dress.  I'll  fold  it  away  very  care- 
fully, and  put  it  in  the  big  chest  before  you  go  to  sleep." 

Dame  Brinker  shook  her  head,  without  turning  her 
eyes  from  her  husband's  face. 

"I  can  watch,  mother,"  urged  Gretel;  "and  I'll  wake 
you  every  time  the  father  stirs.  You  are  so  pale,  and 
your  eyes  are  so  red !  O  mother,  do!" 

The  child  pleaded  in  vain.  Dame  Brinker  would  not 
leave  her  post. 

Gretel  looked  at  her  in  troubled  silence,  wondering 
whether  it  were  very  wicked  to  care  more  for  one  parent 
than  for  the  other,  and  sure,  yes,  quite  sure,  that  she 
dreaded  her  father,  while  she  clung  to  her  mother  with 
a  love  that  was  almost  idolatry. 


120  HANS  DRINKER 

"Hans  loves  the  father  so  well,"  she  thought,  "why 
cannot  I  ?  Yet  I  could  not  help  crying  when  I  saw  his 
hand  bleed  that  day,  last  month,  when  he  snatched  the 
knife;  and  now,  when  he  moans,  how  I  ache, — ache  all 
over !  Perhaps  I  love  him,  after  all,  and  God  will  see  I 
am  not  such  a  bad,  wicked  girl  as  I  thought.  Yes,  I 
love  the  poor  father,  almost  as  Hans  does — not  quite; 
for  Hans  is  stronger,  and  does  not  fear  him.  Oh !  will 
that  moaning  go  on  forever  and  ever  ?  Poor  mother, 
how  patient  she  is  !  She  never  pouts,  as  I  do,  about  the 
money  that  went  away  so  strangely.  If  he  only  could, 
just  for  one  instant,  open  his  eyes  and  look  at  us,  as  Hans 
does,  and  tell  us  where  mother's  guilders  went,  I  would 
not  care  for  the  rest.  Yes,  I  would  care;  I  don't  want 
the  poor  father  to  die,  to  be  all  blue  and  cold,  like  Annie 
Bouman's  little  sister — I  know  I  don't.  Dear  God,  I 
don't  want  father  to  die." 

Her  thoughts  merged  into  a  prayer.  When  it  ended 
the  poor  child  scarcely  knew.  Soon  she  found  herself 
watching  a  little  pulse  of  light  at  the  side  of  the  fire, 
beating  faintly,  but  steadily,  showing  that  somewhere 
in  the  dark  pile  there  was  warmth  and  light  that  would 
overspread  it  at  last.  A  large  earthen  cup,  filled  with 
burning  peat,  stood  near  the  bedside:  Gretel  had  placed 
it  there  to  "stop  the  father's  shivering,"  she  said.  She 
watched  it  as  it  sent  a  glow  around  the  mother's  form, 
tipping  her  faded  skirt  with  light,  and  shedding  a  sort  of 
newness  over  the  threadbare  bodice.  It  was  a  relief  to 


HOMES  121 

Gretel  to  see  the  lines  in  that  weary  face  soften  as  the 
firelight  flickered  gently  across  it. 

Next  she  counted  the  window-panes,  broken  and 
patched  as  they  were,  and  finally,  after  tracing  every 
crack  and  seam  in  the  walls,  fixed  her  gaze  upon  a  carved 
shelf  made  by  Hans.  The  shelf  hung  as  high  as  Gretel 
could  reach.  It  held  a  large,  leather-covered  Bible,  with 
brass  clasps — a  wedding-present  to  Dame  Brinker  from 
the  family  at  Heidelberg. 

"Ah,  how  handy  Hans  is !  If  he  were  here,  he  could 
turn  the  father  some  way  so  the  moans  would  stop.  Dear, 
dear !  if  this  sickness  lasts,  we  shall  never  skate  any  more. 
I  must  send  my  new  skates  back  to  the  beautiful  lady. 
Hans  and  I  will  not  see  the  race;"  and  Gretel's  eyes,  that 
had  been  dry  before,  grew  full  of  tears. 

"Never  cry,  child,"  said  her  mother,  soothingly.  "This 
sickness  may  not  be  as  bad  as  we  think.  The  father  has 
lain  this  way  before." 

Gretel  sobbed  now. 

"O  mother!  it  is  not  that  alone:  you  do  not  know 
all.  I  am  very,  very  bad  and  wicked !" 

" You,  Gretel! — you  so  patient  and  good!"  and  a 
bright,  puzzled  look  beamed  for  an  instant  upon  the 
child.  "Hush,  lovey !  you'll  wake  him." 

Gretel  hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  lap,  and  tried  not 
to  cry. 

Her  little  hand,  so  thin  and  brown,  lay  in  the  coarse 
palm  of  her  mother,  creased  with  many  a  hard  day's 


122  HANS  BRINKER 

work.  Rychie  would  have  shuddered  to  touch  either; 
yet  they  pressed  warmly  upon  each  other.  Soon  Gretel 
looked  up  with  that  dull,  homely  look,  which  they  say 
poor  children  in  shanties  are  apt  to  have,  and  said  in  a 
trembling  voice,— 

"The  father  tried  to  burn  you,  he  did:  I  saw  him — 
and  he  was  laughing!" 

"Hush,  child!" 

The  mother's  words  came  so  suddenly  and  sharply 
that  Raff  Brinker,  dead  as  he  was  to  all  that  was  pas- 
sing round  him,  twitched  slightly  upon  the  bed. 

Gretel  said  no  more,  but  plucked  drearily  at  the  jagged 
edge  of  a  hole  in  her  mother's  holiday  gown.  It  had 
been  burned  there.  Well  for  Dame  Brinker  that  the 
gown  was  woollen. 


XVI 

HAARLEM — THE   BOYS   HEAR  VOICES 

REFRESHED  and  rested,  our  boys  came  forth  from  the 
coffee-house  just  as  the  big  clock  in  the  square,  after 
the  manner  of  certain  Holland  time-keepers,  was  strik- 
ing two  with  its  half-hour  bell  for  half-past  two. 

The  captain  was  absorbed  in  thought,  at  first;  for 
Hans  Drinker's  sad  story  still  echoed  in  his  ears.  Not 
until  Ludwig  rebuked  him  with  a  laughing,  "Wake  up, 
grandfather!"  did  he  re-assume  his  position  as  gallant 
boy-leader  of  his  band. 

"Ahem!    This  way,  young  gentlemen!" 

They  were  walking  through  the  streets  of  the  city, 
not  on  a  curbed  sidewalk  (for  such  a  thing  is  rarely  to  be 
found  in  Holland),  but  on  the  brick  pavement  that  lay 
on  the  borders  of  the  cobble-stone  carriage-way  without 
breaking  its  level  expanse. 

Haarlem,  like  Amsterdam,  was  gayer  than  usual,  in 
honor  of  St.  Nicholas. 

A  strange  figure  was   approaching  them.     It  was   a 

123 


124  HANS  BRINKER 

small  man,  dressed  in  black,  with  a  short  cloak.  He 
wore  a  wig  and  a  cocked  hat,  from  which  a  long,  crape 
streamer  was  flying. 

"Who  comes  here?"  cried  Ben.  "What  a  queer-look- 
ing object !" 

"That's  the  aanspreeker"  said  Lambert.  "Some  one 
is  dead." 

"Is  that  the  way  men  dress  in  mourning  in  this 
country  ?" 

"Oh,  no!  The  annspreeker  attends  funerals;  and  it 
is  his  business,  when  any  one  dies,  to  notify  all  the  friends 
and  relatives." 

"What  a  strange  custom!" 

"Well,"  said  Lambert,  "we  needn't  feel  very  badly 
about  this  particular  death;  for  I  see  another  man  has 
lately  been  born  to  the  world  to  fill  up  the  vacant  place." 

Ben  stared.     "How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Don't  you  see  that  pretty  red  pin-cushion  hanging 
on  yonder  door?"  asked  Lambert,  in  return. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that's  a  boy." 

"A  boy!    What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean,  that  here  in  Haarlem,  whenever  a  boy  is 
born,  the  parents  have  a  red  pin-cushion  put  out  at  the 
door.  If  our  young  friend  had  been  a  girl,  instead  of  a 
boy,  the  cushion  would  have  been  white.  In  some  places 
they  have  much  more  fanciful  affairs,  all  trimmed  with 
lace;  and,  even  among  the  very  poorest  houses,  you  will 


THE  AANSPREEKER 


HAARLEM— THE  BOYS  HEAR  VOICES    125 

see  a  bit  of  ribbon,  or  even  a  string,  tied  on  the  door- 
latch." 

"Look!"  almost  screamed  Ben.  "There  is  a  white 
cushion  at  the  door  of  that  double-jointed  house  with 
the  funny  roof!" 

"  I  don't  see  any  house  with  a  funny  roof." 

"Oh,  of  course  not!"  said  Ben.  "I  forget  you're 
a  native.  But  all  the  roofs  are  queer  to  me,  for  that 
matter.  I  mean  the  house  next  to  that  green  building." 

"True  enough,  there's  a  girl !  I  tell  you  what,  cap- 
tain," called  out  Lambert,  slipping  easily  into  Dutch, 
"we  must  get  out  of  this  street  as  soon  as  possible.  It's 
full  of  babies.  They'll  set  up  a  squall  in  a  moment." 

The  captain  laughed.  "I  shall  take  you  to  hear  better 
music  than  that,"  he  said.  "We  are  just  in  time  to  hear 
the  organ  of  St.  Bavon.  The  church  is  open  to-day." 

"What,  the  great  Haarlem  organ  ?"  asked  Ben.  "That 
will  be  a  treat  indeed.  I  have  often  read  of  it,  with  its 
tremendous  pipes,  and  its  Fox  Humana,1  that  sounds 
like  a  giant  singing." 

"The  same,"  answered  Lambert  van  Mounen. 

Peter  was  right.  The  church  was  open,  though  not 
for  religious  services.  Some  one  was  playing  upon  the 
organ.  As  the  boys  entered,  a  swell  of  sound  rushed 
forth  to  meet  them.  It  seemed  to  bear  them,  one  by 
one,  into  the  shadows  of  the  building. 

Louder  and  louder  it  grew,  until  it  became  like  the 

1  An  organ-stop  which  produces  an  effect  resembling  the  human  voice. 


iz6  HANS  BRINKER 

din  and  roar  of  some  mighty  tempest,  or  like  the  ocean 
surging  upon  the  shore.  In  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  a 
tinkling  bell  was  heard;  another  answered,  then  an- 
other, and  the  storm  paused  as  if  to  listen.  The  bells 
grew  bolder:  they  rang  out  loud  and  clear.  Other  deep- 
toned  bells  joined  in:  they  were  tolling  in  solemn  con- 
cert,— ding-dong,  ding-dong !  The  storm  broke  forth 
again  with  redoubled  fury,  gathering  its  distant  thunder. 
The  boys  looked  at  each  other,  but  did  not  speak.  It 
was  growing  serious.  What  was  that  ?  Who  screamed  ? 
What  screamed, — that  terrible,  musical  scream  ?  Was 
it  man,  or  demon  ?  Or  was  it  some  monster,  shut  up 
behind  that  carved  brass  frame,  behind  those  great 
silver  columns, — some  despairing  monster,  begging, 
screaming,  for  freedom?  It  was  the  Vox  Humana! 

At  last  an  answer  came, — soft,  tender,  loving,  like  a 
mother's  song.  The  storm  grew  silent.  Hidden  birds 
sprang  forth,  filling  the  air  with  glad,  ecstatic  music, 
rising  higher  and  higher,  until  the  last  faint  note  was 
lost  in  the  distance. 

The  Vox  Humana  was  stilled;  but,  in  the  glorious 
hymn  of  thanksgiving  that  now  arose,  one  could  almost 
hear  the  throbbing  of  a  human  heart.  What  did  it 
mean  ?  That  man's  imploring  cry  should  in  time  be  met 
with  a  deep  content  ?  That  gratitude  would  give  us 
freedom  ?  To  Peter  and  Ben,  it  seemed  that  the  angels 
were  singing.  Their  eyes  grew  dim,  and  their  souls 
dizzy,  with  a  strange  joy.  At  last,  as  if  borne  upward 


HAARLEM— THE  BOYS  HEAR  VOICES    127 

by  invisible  hands,  they  were  floating  away  on  the  music, 
all  fatigue  forgotten,  and  with  no  wish  but  to  hear  for- 
ever those  beautiful  sounds,  when  suddenly  Van  Holp's 
sleeve  was  pulled  impatiently,  and  a  gruff  voice  beside 
him  asked, — 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  here,  captain,  blink- 
ing at  the  ceiling  like  a  sick  rabbit  ?  It's  high  time  we 
started." 

"Hush !"  whispered  Peter,  only  half  aroused. 

"Come,  man,  let's  go,"  said  Carl,  giving  the  sleeve  a 
second  pull. 

Peter  turned  reluctantly;  he  would  not  detain  the 
boys  against  their  will.  All  but  Ben  were  casting  rather 
reproachful  glances  upon  him. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  whispered,  "we  will  go.    Softly,  now." 

"That's  the  greatest  thing  I've  seen  or  heard  since 
I've  been  in  Holland!"  cried  Ben,  enthusiastically,  as 
soon  as  they  had  reached  the  open  air.  "It's  glorious!" 

Ludwig  and  Carl  laughed  slyly  at  the  English  boy's 
tvartaal,  or  gibberish;  Jacob  yawned;  Peter  gave  Ben 
a  look  that  made  him  instantly  feel  that  he  and  Peter 
were  not  so  very  different,  after  all,  though  one  hailed 
from  Holland,  and  the  other  from  England;  and  Lam- 
bert, the  interpreter,  responded  with  a  brisk, — 

"You  may  well  say  so.  I  believe  there  are  one  or  two 
organs  nowadays  that  are  said  to  be  as  fine;  but,  for 
years  and  years,  this  organ  of  St.  Bavon  was  the  grandest 
in  the  world." 


128  HANS  BRINKER 

"Do  you  know  how  large  it  is?"  asked  Ben.  "I 
noticed  that  the  church  itself  was  prodigiously  high,  and 
that  the  organ  filled  the  end  of  the  great  aisle  almost 
from  floor  to  roof." 

"That's  true,"  said  Lambert;  "and  how  superb  the 
pipes  looked, — just  like  grand  columns  of  silver.  They're 
only  for  show,  you  know:  the  real  pipes  are  behind 
them, — some  big  enough  for  a  man  to  crawl  through, 
and  some  smaller  than  a  baby's  whistle.  Well,  sir,  for 
size,  the  church  is  higher  than  Westminster  Abbey,  to 
begin  with;  and,  as  you  say,  the  organ  makes  a  tremen- 
dous show,  even  then.  Father  told  me,  last  night,  that 
it  is  one  hundred  and  eight  feet  high,  fifty  feet  broad, 
and  has  over  five  thousand  pipes:  it  has  sixty-four  stops, 
if  you  know  what  they  are  (I  don't),  and  three  key- 
boards." 

"Good  for  you  !"  said  Ben.  "You  have  a  fine  memory. 
My  head  is  a  perfect  colander  for  figures:  they  slip 
through  as  fast  as  they're  poured  in.  But  other  facts, 
and  historical  events,  stay  behind:  that's  some  con- 
solation." 

"There  we  differ,"  returned  Van  Mounen.  "I'm 
great  on  names  and  figures;  but  history,  take  it  alto- 
gether, seems  to  me  to  be  the  most  hopeless  kind  of  a 
jumble." 

Meantime  Carl  and  Ludwig  were  having  a  discussion 
concerning  some  square,  wooden  monuments  they  had 
observed  in  the  interior  of  the  church.  Ludwig  declared 


HAARLEM— THE   BOYS   HEAR  VOICES    129 

that  each  bore  the  name  of  the  person  buried  beneath; 
and  Carl  insisted  that  they  had  no  names,  but  only  the 
heraldic  arms  of  the  deceased,  painted  on  a  black  ground, 
with  the  date  of  the  death  in  gilt  letters. 

"I  ought  to  know,"  said  Carl;  "for  I  walked  across 
to  the  east  side  to  look  for  the  cannon-ball  which  mother 
told  me  was  embedded  there.  It  was  fired  into  the 
church,  in  the  year  fifteen  hundred  and  something,  by 
those  rascally  Spaniards,  while  the  services  were  going 
on.  There  it  was  in  the  wall,  sure  enough;  and,  while 
I  was  walking  back,  I  noticed  the  monuments.  I  tell 
you  they  haven't  a  sign  of  a  name  upon  them." 

"Ask  Peter,"  said  Ludwig,  only  half  convinced. 

"Carl  is  right,"  replied  Peter,  who,  though  conversing 
with  Jacob,  had  overheard  their  dispute.  "Well,  Jacob, 
as  I  was  saying,  Handel,  the  great  composer,  chanced 
to  visit  Haarlem,  and,  of  course,  he  at  once  hunted  up 
this  famous  organ.  He  gained  admittance,  and  was 
playing  upon  it  with  all  his  might,  when  the  regular 
organist  chanced  to  enter  the  building.  The  man  stood 
awestruck.  He  was  a  good  player  himself;  but  he  had 
never  heard  such  music  before.  'Who  is  there?'  he 
cried.  'If  it  is  not  an  angel  or  the  devil,  it  must  be  Han- 
del!' When  he  discovered  that  it  was  the  great  musi- 
cian, he  was  still  more  mystified.  'But  how  is  this?' 
said  he:  'you  have  done  impossible  things.  No  ten 
fingers  on  earth  can  play  the  passages  you  have  given: 
human  hands  couldn't  control  all  the  keys  and  stops.'— 


i3o  HANS  DRINKER 

'I  know  it,5  said  Handel,  coolly,  'and,  for  that  reason, 
I  was  forced  to  strike  some  notes  with  the  end  of  my 
nose. '  Donder !  just  think  how  the  old  organist  must 
have  stared!" 

"Hey!  What?"  exclaimed  Jacob,  startled  when 
Peter's  animated  voice  suddenly  became  silent. 

"Haven't  you  heard  me,  you  rascal?"  was  the  indig- 
nant rejoinder. 

"Oh,  yes! — no — the  fact  is — I  heard  you  at  first. 
I'm  awake  now;  but  I  do  believe  I've  been  walking 
beside  you  half  asleep,"  stammered  Jacob,  with  such  a 
doleful,  bewildered  look  on  his  face  that  Peter  could 
not  help  laughing. 


XVII 

THE  MAN  WITH  FOUR  HEADS 

AFTER  leaving  the  church,  the  boys  stopped  near  by, 
in  the  open  market-place,  to  look  at  the  bronze  statue 
of  Laurens  Janzoon  Coster,  who  is  believed  by  the  Dutch 
to  have  been  the  inventor  of  printing.  This  is  disputed 
by  those  who  award  the  same  honor  to  Johannes  Gut- 
tenberg  of  Mayence;  while  many  maintain  that  Faus- 
tus,  a  servant  of  Coster,  stole  his  master's  wooden  types 
on  a  Christmas  Eve,  when  the  latter  was  at  church,  and 
fled  with  his  booty  and  his  secret  to  Mayence.  Coster 
was  a  native  of  Haarlem;  and  the  Hollanders  are  naturally 
anxious  to  secure  the  credit  of  the  invention  for  their 
illustrious  townsman.  Certain  it  is,  that  the  first  book 
he  printed  is  kept  by  the  city,  in  a  silver  case,  wrapped  in 
silk,  and  is  shown  with  great  caution  as  a  most  precious 
relic.  It  is  said  he  first  conceived  the  idea  of  printing, 
from  cutting  his  name  upon  the  bark  of  a  tree,  and  after- 
ward pressing  a  piece  of  paper  upon  the  characters. 

Of  course,  Lambert  and  his  English  friend  fully  dis- 


132  HANS  BRINKER 

cussed  this  subject.  They  also  had  a  rather  warm  argu- 
ment concerning  another  invention.  Lambert  declared 
that  the  honor  of  giving  both  the  telescope  and  micro- 
scope to  the  world  lay  between  Metius  and  Jansen,  both 
Hollanders;  while  Ben  as  stoutly  insisted  that  Roger 
Bacon,  an  English  monk  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
"wrote  out  the  whole  thing,  sir, — perfect  descriptions 
of  microscopes  and  telescopes  too, — long  before  either 
of  those  other  fellows  were  born." 

On  one  subject,  however,  they  both  agreed, — that  the 
art  of  curing  and  pickling  herrings  was  discovered  by 
William  Beukles  of  Holland,  and  that  the  country  did 
perfectly  right  in  honoring  him  as  a  national  benefactor; 
for  its  wealth  and  importance  had  been,  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, due  to  its  herring-trade. 

"It  is  astonishing,"  said  Ben,  "in  what  prodigious 
quantities  those  fish  are  found.  I  don't  know  how  it  is 
here;  but  on  the  coast  of  England,  off  Yarmouth,  the 
herring-shoals  have  been  known  to  be  six  and  seven  feet 
deep  with  fish." 

"That  is  prodigious,  indeed,"  said  Lambert;  "but 
you  know  your  word  'herring*  is  derived  from  the  Ger- 
man heer  ('an  army')  on  account  of  a  way  the  fish  have 
of  coming  in  large  numbers." 

Soon  afterward,  while  passing  a  cobbler's  shop,  Ben 
exclaimed, — 

"Halloo,  Lambert!  here  is  the  name  of  one  of  your 
greatest  men  over  a  cobbler's  stall ! — Boerhaave.  If  it 


THE  MAN  WITH  FOUR  HEADS          133 

were  only  Herman  Boerhaave,  instead  of  Hendrick,  it 
would  be  complete — " 

Lambert  knit  his  brows  reflectively,  as  he  replied, — 

"Boerhaave,  Boerhaave!  The  name  is  perfectly 
familiar.  I  remember,  too,  he  was  born  in  1668;  but 
the  rest  is  all  gone,  as  usual.  There  have  been  so  many 
famous  Hollanders,  you  see,  it  is  impossible  for  a  fellow 
to  know  them  all.  What  was  he  ?  Did  he  have  two  heads  ? 
Or  was  he  one  of  your  great  natural  swimmers,  like 
Marco  Polo?" 

"He  had  four  heads,"  answered  Ben,  laughing;  "for 
he  was  a  great  physician,  naturalist,  botanist  and  chemist. 
I  am  full  of  him  just  now;  for  I  read  his  life  a  few  weeks 
ago." 

"Pour  out  a  little,  then,"  said  Lambert.  "Only  walk 
faster:  we  shall  lose  sight  of  the  other  boys." 

"Well,"  resumed  Ben,  quickening  his  pace,  and  look- 
ing with  great  interest  at  everything  going  on  in  the 
crowded  street.  "This  Dr.  Boerhaave  was  a  great 
anspewker" 

"A  great  what?"  roared  Lambert. 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon !  I  was  thinking  of  that  man  over 
there,  with  the  cocked  hat.  He's  an  anspewker,  isn't  he  ?" 

"Yes.  He's  an  aanspreeker,  if  that  is  what  you  mean 
to  say.  But  what  about  your  friend  with  the  four  heads  ? " 

"Well,  as  I  was  going  to  say,  the  doctor  was  left  a 
penniless  orphan  at  sixteen,  without  education  or  friends." 

"Jolly  beginning!"  interposed  Lambert. 


134  HANS  BRINKER 

"Now  don't  interrupt.  He  was  a  poor  friendless 
orphan  at  sixteen;  but  he  was  so  persevering  and  indus- 
trious, so  determined  to  gain  knowledge,  that  he  made 
his  way,  and  in  time  became  one  of  the  most  learned 
men  of  Europe.  All  the —  What  is  that  ?" 

"Where  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Why,  that  paper  on  the  door  opposite.  Don't  you 
see  ?  Two  or  three  persons  are  reading  it.  I  have  noticed 
several  of  these  papers  since  I've  been  here." 

"Oh !  that's  only  a  health-bulletin.  Somebody  in  the 
house  is  ill;  and,  to  prevent  a  steady  knocking  at  the 
door,  the  family  write  an  account  of  the  patient's  con- 
dition on  a  placard,  and  hang  it  outside  the  door  for  the 
benefit  of  inquiring  friends, — a  very  sensible  custom, 
I'm  sure.  Nothing  strange  about  it  that  I  can  see.  Go 
on,  please.  You  said,  'All  the,'  and  there  you  left  me 
hanging." 

"I  was  going  to  say,"  resumed  Ben,  "that  all  the — all 
the —  How  comically  persons  do  dress  here,  to  be  sure ! 
Just  look  at  those  men  and  women  with  their  sugar- 
loaf  hats,  and  see  this  woman  ahead  of  us  with  a  straw 
bonnet  like  a  scoop-shovel,  tapering  to  a  point  in  the 
back.  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  funny  ?  And  those 
tremendous  wooden  shoes  too.  I  declare  she's  a  beauty !" 

"Oh,  they  are  only  back-country  folk!"  said  Lambert, 
rather  impatiently.  "You  might  as  well  let  old  Boer- 
haave  drop,  or  else  shut  your  eyes." 

"Ha,  ha!    Well,  I  was  going  to  say,  all  the  big  men 


THE  MAN  WITH  FOUR  HEADS          135 

of  his  day  sought  out  this  great  professor.  Even  Peter 
the  Great,  when  he  came  over  to  Holland  from  Russia, 
to  learn  ship-building,  attended  his  lectures  regularly. 
By  that  time  Boerhaave  was  professor  of  medicine  and 
chemistry  and  botany  in  the  University  of  Leyden.  He 
had  grown  to  be  very  wealthy  as  a  practising  physician; 
but  he  used  to  say  that  the  poor  were  his  best  patients, 
because  God  would  be  their  paymaster.  All  Europe 
learned  to  love  and  honor  him.  In  short,  he  became  so 
famous  that  a  certain  mandarin  of  China  addressed  a 
letter  to  'The  illustrious  Boerhaave,  physician  in  Eu- 
rope;' and  the  letter  found  its  way  to  him  without  any 
difficulty." 

"My  goodness  !  That  is  what  I  call  being  a  public  char- 
acter. I  say !  Look  at  yonder  couple  in  their  pleasure- 
cart.  It  would  look  like  an  ancient  chariot,  if  it  only 
were  set  lower.  Halloo  !  The  boys  have  stopped.  How 
now,  Captain  van  Holp,  where  next?" 

"We  propose  to  move  on,"  said  Van  Holp:  "there  is 
nothing  to  see  at  this  season  in  the  Bosch.  The  Bosch 
is  a  noble  wood,  Benjamin,  a  grand  park,  where  they 
have  most  magnificent  trees  protected  by  law.  Do 
you  understand  ?" 

"Ya!"  nodded  Ben,   as  the  captain  proceeded, — 

"Unless  you  all  desire  to  visit  the  Museum  of  Natural 
History,  we  may  go  on  the  grand  canal  again.  If  we 
had  more  time,  it  would  be  pleasant  to  take  Benjamin 
up  the  Blue  Stairs." 


136  HANS   BRINKER 

"What   are  the   Blue   Stairs,   Lambert?"   asked   Ben. 

"They  are  the  highest  point  of  the  Dunes.  You  have 
a  grand  view  of  the  ocean  from  there,  besides  a  fine 
chance  to  see  how  wonderful  these  Dunes  are.  One  can 
hardly  believe  that  the  wind  could  ever  heap  up  sand  in 
so  remarkable  a  way.  But  we  have  to  go  through  Bloe- 
mendal  to  get  there, — not  a  very  pretty  village,  and  some 
distance  from  here.  What  do  you  say?" 

"Oh  !  I  am  ready  for  anything.  For  my  part,  I  would 
rather  steer  direct  for  Leyden;  but  we'll  do  as  the  cap- 
tain says — hey,  Jacob  ?" 

"Ya,  dat  ish  goot,"  said  Jacob,  who  felt  decidedly 
more  like  taking  another  nap  than  ascending  the  Blue 
Stairs. 

The  captain  was  in  favor  of  going  to  Leyden. 

"It's  four  long  miles  from  here.  (Full  sixteen  of  your 
English  miles,  Benjamin.)  We  have  no  time  to  lose,  if 
you  wish  to  reach  there  before  midnight.  Decide  quickly, 
boys, — Blue  Stairs,  or  Leyden?" 

"Leyden,"  they  answered,  and  were  out  of  Haarlem 
in  a  twinkling,  admiring  the  lofty  tower-like  windmills 
and  pretty  country-seats  as  they  left  the  city  behind 
them. 

"If  you  really  wish  to  see  Haarlem,"  said  Lambert 
to  Ben,  after  they  had  skated  a  while  in  silence,  "you 
should  visit  it  in  summer.  It  is  the  greatest  place  in  the 
world  for  beautiful  flowers.  The  walks  around  the  city 
are  superb;  and  the  'Wood'  with  its  miles  of  noble  elms, 


THE  MAN  WITH   FOUR  HEADS  137 

all  in  full  feather,  is  something  to  remember.  You  need 
not  smile,  old  fellow,  at  my  saying  'full  feather':  I  was 
thinking  of  waving  plumes,  and  got  my  words  mixed  up 
a  little.  But  a  Dutch  elm  beats  everything:  it  is  the 
noblest  tree  on  earth,  Ben — if  you  except  the  English 
oak." 

"Ay,"  said  Ben,  solemnly,  "if  you  except  the  English 
oak."  And  for  some  moments  he  could  scarcely  see  the 
canal,  because  Robby  and  Jenny  kept  bobbing  in  the 
air  before  his  eyes. 


XVIII 

FRIENDS    IN   NEED 

MEANTIME  the  other  boys  were  listening  to  Peter's 
account  of  an  incident  which  had  long  ago  occurred1 
in  a  part  of  the  city  where  stood  an  ancient  castle,  whose 
lord  had  tyrannized  over  the  burghers  of  the  town  to 
such  an  extent  that  they  surrounded  his  castle,  and 
laid  siege  to  it.  Just  at  the  last  extremity,  when  the 
haughty  lord  felt  that  he  could  hold  out  no  longer,  and 
was  preparing  to  sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible,  his 
lady  appeared  on  the  ramparts,  and  offered  to  surrender 
everything,  provided  she  was  permitted  to  bring  out, 
and  retain,  as  much  of  her  most  precious  household  goods 
as  she  could  carry  upon  her  back.  The  promise  was 
given;  and  forth  came  the  lady  from  the  gateway,  bear- 
ing her  husband  upon  her  shoulders.  The  burghers' 
pledge  preserved  him  from  the  fury  of  the  troops,  but 
left  them  free  to  wreak  their  vengeance  upon  the 
castle. 

1  Sir  Thomas  Carr's  Tour  through  Holland. 
138 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  139 

"Do  you  believe  that  story,  Captain  Peter?"  asked 
Carl,  in  an  incredulous  tone. 

"Of  course  I  do:  it  is  historical.  Why  should  I  doubt 
it?" 

"Simply  because  no  woman  could  do  it;  and,  if  she 
could,  she  wouldn't.  That  is  my  opinion." 

"And  7  believe  there  are  many  who  would;  that  is, 
to  save  any  one  they  really  cared  for,"  said  Ludwig. 

Jacob,  who,  in  spite  of  his  fat  and  sleepiness,  was  of  a 
rather  sentimental  turn,  had  listened  with  deep  interest. 

"That  is  right,  little  fellow,"  he  said,  nodding  his 
head  approvingly.  "I  believe  every  word  of  it.  I  shall 
never  marry  a  woman  who  would  not  be  glad  to  do  as 
much  for  me" 

"Heaven  help  her!"  cried  Carl,  turning  to  gaze  at 
the  speaker.  "Why,  Foot,  three  men  couldn't  do  it!" 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Jacob,  quietly,  feeling  that  he  had 
asked  rather  too  much  of  the  future  Mrs.  Poot.  "But 
she  must  be  willing;  that  is  all." 

"Ay!"  responded  Peter's  cheery  voice.  "Willing 
heart  makes  nimble  foot;  and  who  knows  but  it  may 
make  strong  arms  also?" 

"Pete,"  asked  Ludwig,  changing  the  subject,  "did 
you  tell  me,  last  night,  that  the  painter  Wouvermans 
was  born  in  Haarlem?" 

"Yes;  and  Jacob  Ruysdael  and  Berghem  too.  I  like 
Berghem,  because  he  was  always  good-natured.  They 
say  he  always  sang  while  he  painted;  and,  though  he 


i4o  HANS  BRINKER 

died  nearly  two  hundred  years  ago,  there  are  traditions 
still  afloat  concerning  his  pleasant  laugh.  He  was  a 
great  painter;  and  he  had  a  wife  as  cross  as  Xantippe." 

"They  balanced  each  other  finely,"  said  Ludwig: 
"he  was  kind,  and  she  was  cross.  But,  Peter,  before  I 
forget  it,  wasn't  that  picture  of  St.  Hubert  and  the  Horse 
painted  by  Wouvermans  ?  You  remember  father  showed 
us  an  engraving  from  it,  last  night." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  There  is  a  story  connected  with  that 
picture." 

"Tell  us!"  cried  two  or  three,  drawing  closer  to  Peter 
as  they  skated  on. 

"Wouvermans,"  began  the  captain,  oratorically,  "was 
born  in  1620,  just  four  years  before  Berghem.  He  was 
a  master  of  his  art,  and  especially  excelled  in  painting 
horses.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  people  were  so  long 
finding  out  his  merits  that,  even  after  he  had  arrived  at 
the  height  of  his  excellence,  he  was  obliged  to  sell  his 
pictures  for  very  paltry  prices.  The  poor  artist  became 
completely  discouraged,  and,  worse  than  all,  was  over 
head  and  ears  in  debt.  One  day  he  was  talking  over  his 
troubles  with  his  father-confessor,  who  was  one  of  the 
few  who  recognized  his  genius.  The  priest  determined 
to  assist  him,  and  accordingly  lent  him  six  hundred 
guilders,  advising  him,  at  the  same  time,  to  demand  a 
better  price  for  his  pictures.  Wouvermans  did  so,  and 
in  the  meantime  paid  his  debts.  Matters  brightened 
with  him  at  once.  Everybody  appreciated  the  great 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  141 

artist  who  painted  such  costly  pictures.  He  grew  rich. 
The  six  hundred  guilders  were  returned;  and,  in  gratitude, 
Wouvermans  sent  also  a  work  which  he  had  painted, 
representing  his  benefactor  as  St.  Hubert  kneeling  be- 
fore his  horse, — the  very  picture,  Ludwig,  of  which  we 
were  speaking  last  night." 

"So,  so!"  exclaimed  Ludwig,  with  deep  interest,  "I 
must  take  another  look  at  the  engraving  as  soon  as  we 
get  home." 

At  that  same  hour,  while  Ben  was  skating  with  his 
companions  beside  the  Holland  dike,  Robby  and  Jenny 
stood  in  their  pretty  English  schoolhouse,  ready  to  join 
in  the  duties  of  their  reading  class. 

"Commence,  Master  Robert  Dobbs,"  said  the  teacher. 
"Page  242:  now,  sir,  mind  every  stop." 

And  Robby,  in  a  quick,  childish  voice,  roared  forth  at 
school-room  pitch: — 

"LESSON  62. — THE  HERO  OF  HAARLEM. 

"Many  years  ago,  there  lived  in  Haarlem,  one  of  the 
principal  cities  of  Holland,  a  sunny-haired  boy  of  gentle 
disposition.  His  father  was  a  sluicer;  that  is,  a  man 
whose  business  it  was  to  open  and  close  the  sluices,  or 
large  oaken  gates  that  are  placed  at  regular  distances 
across  the  entrance  of  the  canals  to  regulate  the  amount 
of  water  that  shall  flow  into  them. 

"The  sluicer  raises  the  gates  more  or  less,  according 


142  HANS  BRINKER 

to  the  quantity  of  water  required,  and  closes  them  care- 
fully at  night,  in  order  to  avoid  all  possible  danger  of  an 
over-supply  running  into  the  canal,  or  the  water  would 
soon  overflow  it,  and  inundate  the  surrounding  country. 
As  a  great  portion  of  Holland  is  lower  than  the  level  of 
the  sea,  the  waters  are  kept  from  flooding  the  land  only 
by  means  of  strong  dikes,  or  barriers,  and  by  means  of 
these  sluices,  which  are  often  strained  to  the  utmost  by 
the  pressure  of  the  rising  tides.  Even  the  little  children 
in  Holland  know  that  constant  watchfulness  is  required 
to  keep  the  rivers  and  ocean  from  overwhelming  the 
country,  and  that  a  moment's  neglect  of  the  sluicer's 
duty  may  bring  ruin  and  death  to  all." 

["Very  good,"  said  the  teacher.  "Now,  Susan."] 
"One  lovely  autumn  afternoon,  when  the  boy  was 
about  eight  years  old,  he  obtained  his  parents'  consent 
to  carry  some  cakes  to  a  blind  man  who  lived  out  in  the 
country,  on  the  other  side  of  the  dike.  The  little  fellow 
started  on  his  errand  with  a  light  heart,  and,  having 
spent  an  hour  with  his  grateful  old  friend,  he  bade  him 
farewell,  and  started  on  his  homeward  walk. 

"Trudging  stoutly  along  by  the  canal,  he  noticed  how 
the  autumn  rains  had  swollen  the  waters.  Even  while 
humming  his  careless,  childish  song,  he  thought  of  his 
father's  brave  old  gates,  and  felt  glad  of  their  strength; 
for,  thought  he,  'if  they  gave  way,  where  would  father 
and  mother  be  ?  These  pretty  fields  would  be  all  covered 
with  the  angry  waters.  Father  always  calls  them  the 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  143 

angry  waters:  I  suppose  he  thinks  they  are  mad  at  him 
for  keeping  them  out  so  long. '  And,  with  these  thoughts 
just  flitting  across  his  brain,  the  little  fellow  stooped  to 
pick  the  pretty  blue  flowers  that  grew  along  his  way. 
Sometimes  he  stopped  to  throw  some  feathery  seed-ball 
in  the  air,  and  watch  it  as  it  floated  away;  sometimes  he 
listened  to  the  stealthy  rustling  of  a  rabbit  speeding 
through  the  grass:  but  oftener  he  smiled  as  he  recalled 
the  happy  light  he  had  seen  arise  on  the  weary,  listening 
face  of  his  blind  old  friend." 

["Now,  Henry,"  said  the  teacher,  nodding  to  the  next 
little  reader.] 

"Suddenly  the  boy  looked  around  him  in  dismay.  He 
had  not  noticed  that  the  sun  was  setting:  now  he  saw 
that  his  long  shadow  on  the  grass  had  vanished.  It  was 
growing  dark.  He  was  still  some  distance  from  home, 
and  in  a  lonely  ravine,  where  even  the  blue  flowers  had 
turned  to  gray.  He  quickened  his  footsteps,  and,  with  a 
beating  heart,  recalled  many  a  nursery  tale  of  children 
belated  in  dreary  forests.  Just  as  he  was  bracing  himself 
for  a  run,  he  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  trickling  water. 
Whence  did  it  come  ?  He  looked  up,  and  saw  a  small 
hole  in  the  dike,  through  which  a  tiny  stream  was  flowing. 
Any  child  in  Holland  will  shudder  at  the  thought  of  a 
leak  in  the  dike.  The  boy  understood  the  danger  at  a 
glance.  That  little  hole,  if  the  water  were  allowed  to 
trickle  through,  would  soon  be  a  large  one;  and  a  terrible 
inundation  would  be  the  result. 


i44  HANS   BRINKER 

"Quick  as  a  flash,  he  saw  his  duty.  Throwing  away 
his  flowers,  the  boy  clambered  up  the  heights  until  he 
reached  the  hole.  His  chubby  little  finger  was  thrust 
in,  almost  before  he  knew  it.  The  flowing  was  stopped ! 
'Ah  !'  he  thought,  with  a  chuckle  of  boyish  delight,  'the 
angry  waters  must  stay  back  now !  Haarlem  shall  not 
be  drowned  while  7  am  here!' 

"This  was  all  very  well  at  first;  but  the  night  was 
falling  rapidly.  Chill  vapors  filled  the  air.  Our  little 
hero  began  to  tremble  with  cold  and  dread.  He  shouted 
loudly;  he  screamed,  'Come  here,  come  here!'  but  no 
one  came.  The  cold  grew  more  intense.  A  numbness, 
commencing  in  the  tired  little  finger,  crept  over  his  hand 
and  arm;  and  soon  his  whole  body  was  filled  with  pain. 
He  shouted  again,  'Will  no  one  come  ?  Mother,  mother  P 
Alas !  his  mother,  good,  practical  soul,  had  already 
locked  the  doors,  and  had  fully  resolved  to  scold  him  on 
the  morrow  for  spending  the  night  with  blind  Jansen 
without  her  permission.  He  tried  to  whistle.  Perhaps 
some  straggling  boy  might  heed  the  signal;  but  his  teeth 
chattered  so,  it  was  impossible.  Then  he  called  on  God 
for  help;  and  the  answer  came  through  a  holy  resolution, 
— 'I  will  stay  here  till  morning." 

["Now,  Jenny  Dobbs,"  said  the  teacher.  Jenny's  eyes 
were  glistening;  but  she  took  a  long  breath,  and 
commenced.] 

"The  midnight  moon  looked  down  upon  that  small 
solitary  form,  sitting  upon  a  stone,  half-way  up  the  dike. 


FRIENDS  IN  NEED  145 

His  head  was  bent,  but  he  was  not  asleep;  for,  every 
now  and  then,  one  restless  hand  rubbed  feebly  the  out- 
stretched arm  that  seemed  fastened  to  the  dike;  and 
often  the  pale,  tearful  face  turned  quickly  at  some  real 
or  fancied  sound. 

"How  can  we  know  the  sufferings  of  that  long  and  fear- 
ful watch  ? — what  falterings  of  purpose,  what  childish 
terrors,  came  over  the  boy  as  he  thought  of  the  warm 
little  bed  at  home,  of  his  parents,  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
then  looked  into  the  cold,  dreary  night !  If  he  drew  away 
that  tiny  finger,  the  angry  waters,  grown  angrier  still, 
would  rush  forth,  and  never  stop  until  they  had  swept 
over  the  town.  No:  he  would  hold  it  there  till  daylight — 
if  he  lived.  He  was  not  very  sure  of  living.  What  did 
this  strange  buzzing  mean  ?  And  then  the  knives,  that 
seemed  pricking  and  piercing  him  from  head  to  foot  ? 
He  was  not  certain  now  that  he  could  draw  his  finger 
away,  even  if  he  wished  to. 

"At  daybreak  a  clergyman,  returning  from  the  bed- 
side of  a  sick  parishioner,  thought  he  heard  groans  as  he 
walked  along  on  the  top  of  the  dike.  Bending,  he  saw, 
far  down  on  the  side,  a  child,  apparently  writhing  with 
pain. 

"'In  the  name  of  wonder,  boy/  he  exclaimed,  'what 
are  you  doing  there  ?' 

"  *I  am  keeping  the  water  from  running  out,'  was 
the  simple  answer  of  the  little  hero.  'Tell  them  to  come 
quick. ' 


146  HANS   BRINKER 

"It  is  needless  to  add  that  they  did  come  quickly, 
and  that — ' 

["Jenny  Dobbs,"  said  the  teacher,  rather  impatiently, 
"if  you  cannot  control  your  feelings  so  as  to  read  dis- 
tinctly, we  will  wait  until  you  recover  yourself." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Jenny,  quite  startled.] 

It  was  strange;  but,  at  that  very  moment,  Ben,  far 
over  the  sea,  was  saying  to  Lambert, — 

"The  noble  little  fellow !  I  have  frequently  met  with 
an  account  of  the  incident;  but  I  never  knew  till  now 
that  it  was  really  true." 

"True!  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Lambert,  kindling.  "I 
have  given  you  the  story  just  as  mother  told  it  to  me, 
years  ago.  Why,  there  is  not  a  child  in  Holland  who  does 
not  know  it.  And,  Ben,  you  may  not  think  so;  but  that 
little  boy  represents  the  spirit  of  the  whole  country. 
Not  a  leak  can  show  itself  anywhere,  either  in  its  politics, 
honor,  or  public  safety,  that  a  million  fingers  are  not 
ready  to  stop  it,  at  any  cost." 

"Whew!"  cried  Master  Ben:    "big  talking  that!" 

"It's  true  talk,  anyway,"  rejoined  Lambert,  so  very 
quietly  that  Ben  wisely  resolved  to  make  no  further 
comment. 


XIX 


ON   THE    CANAL 

THE  skating  season  had  commenced  unusually  early: 
our  boys  were  by  no  means  alone  upon  the  ice.  The 
afternoon  was  so  fine  that  men,  women  and  children, 
bent  upon  enjoying  the  holiday,  had  flocked  to  the  grand 
canal  from  far  and  near.  St.  Nicholas  had  evidently 
remembered  the  favorite  pastime:  shining  new  skates 
were  everywhere  to  be  seen.  Whole  families  were  skim- 
ming their  way  to  Haarlem,  or  Leyden,  or  the  neighbor- 
ing villages.  The  ice  seemed  fairly  alive.  Ben  noticed 
the  erect,  easy  carriage  of  the  women,  and  their  pic- 
turesque variety  of  costume.  There  were ,  the  latest 
fashions,  fresh  from  Paris,  floating  past  dingy,  moth- 
eaten  garments  that  had  seen  service  through  two  gen- 
erations; coal-scuttle  bonnets  perched  over  freckled 
faces  bright  with  holiday  smiles;  stiff  muslin  caps,  with 
wings  at  the  sides,  flapping  beside  cheeks  rosy  with 
health  and  contentment;  furs,  too,  encircling  the  whitest 
of  throats;  and  scanty  garments  fluttering  below  faces 

147 


148  HANS   BRINKER 

ruddy  with  exercise:  in  short,  every  quaint  and  comical 
mixture  of  dry-goods  and  flesh  that  Holland  could  furnish 
seemed  sent  to  enliven  the  scene. 

There  were  belles  from  Leyden,  and  fishwives  from  the 
border  villages;  cheese-women  from  Gouda,  and  prim 
matrons  from  beautiful  country-seats  on  the  Haarlem- 
mer  Meer.  Grey-headed  skaters  were  constantly  to  be 
seen;  wrinkled  old  women  with  baskets  upon  their  heads; 
and  plump  little  toddlers  on  skates,  clutching  at  their 
mother's  gowns.  Some  women  carried  their  babies  upon 
their  backs,  firmly  secured  with  a  bright  shawl.  The 
effect  was  pretty  and  graceful  as  they  darted  by,  or 
sailed  slowly  past,  now  nodding  to  an  acquaintance,  now 
chirruping,  and  throwing  soft  baby-talk,  to  the  muffled 
little  ones  they  carried. 

Boys  and  girls  were  chasing  each  other,  and  hiding 
behind  the  one-horse  sleds  that,  loaded  high  with  peat 
or  timber,  pursued  their  cautious  way  along  the  track 
marked  out  as  "safe."  Beautiful,  queenly  women  were 
there,  enjoyment  sparkling  in  their  quiet  eyes.  Some- 
times a  long  file  of  young  men,  each  grasping  the  coat 
of  the  one  before  him,  flew  by  with  electric  speed;  and 
sometimes  the  ice  squeaked  under  the  chair  of  some 
gorgeous  old  dowager,  or  rich  burgomaster's  lady,  who, 
very  red  in  the  nose  and  sharp  in  the  eyes,  looked  like 
a  scare-thaw  invented  by  old  Father  Winter  for  the 
protection  of  his  skating  grounds.  The  chair  would  be 
heavy  with  foot-stoves  and  cushions,  to  say  nothing  of 


ON  THE  CANAL  149 

the  old  lady.  Mounted  upon  shining  runners,  it  slid 
along,  pushed  by  the  sleepiest  of  servants,  who,  looking 
neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left,  bent  himself  to  his  task, 
while  she  cast  direful  glances  upon  the  screaming  little 
rowdies  who  invariably  acted  as  body-guard. 

As  for  the  men,  they  were  pictures  of  placid  enjoy- 
ment. Some  were  attired  in  ordinary  citizen's  dress; 
but  many  looked  odd  enough  with  their  short  woollen 
coats,  wide  breeches  and  big  silver  buckles.  These  seemed 
to  Ben  like  little  boys,  who  had,  by  a  miracle,  sprung  sud- 
denly into  manhood,  and  were  forced  to  wear  garments 
that  their  astonished  mothers  had  altered  in  a  hurry. 
He  noticed,  too,  that  nearly  all  the  men  had  pipes,  as 
they  passed  him,  whizzing  and  smoking  like  so  many 
locomotives.  There  was  every  variety  of  pipes,  from 
those  of  common  clay  to  the  most  expensive  meerschaums 
mounted  in  silver  and  gold.  Some  were  carved  into 
extraordinary  and  fantastic  shapes,  representing  birds, 
flowers,  heads,  bugs  and  dozens  of  other  things;  some 
resembled  the  "Dutchman's  pipe,"  that  grows  in  our 
American  woods;  some  were  red,  and  many  were  of  a 
pure,  snowy  white;  but  the  most  respectable  were  those 
which  were  ripening  into  a  shaded  brown.  The  deeper 
and  richer  the  brown,  of  course,  the  more  honored  the 
pipe;  for  it  was  a  proof  that  the  owner,  if  honestly  shad- 
ing it,  was  deliberately  devoting  his  manhood  to  the 
effort.  What  pipe  would  not  be  proud  to  be  the  object 
of  such  a  sacrifice  ! 


i5o  HANS  BRINKER 

For  a  while,  Ben  skated  on  in  silence.  There  was  so 
much  to  engage  his  attention  that  he  almost  forgot  his 
companions.  Part  of  the  time  he  had  been  watching 
the  ice-boats  as  they  flew  over  the  great  Haarlemmer 
Meer  (or  lake),  the  frozen  surface  of  which  was  now 
plainly  visible  from  the  canal.  These  boats  ha4  very 
large  sails, — much  larger,  in  proportion,  than  those  of 
ordinary  vessels, — and  were  set  upon  a  triangular  frame, 
furnished  with  an  iron  "runner"  at  each  corner;  the 
widest  part  of  the  triangle  crossing  the  bow,  and  its 
point  stretching  beyond  the  stern.  They  had  rudders 
for  guiding,  and  brakes  for  arresting  their  progress;  and 
were  of  all  sizes  and  kinds,  from  small,  rough  affairs, 
managed  by  a  boy,  to  large  and  beautiful  ones  filled  with 
gay  pleasure-parties,  and  manned  by  competent  sailors, 
who,  smoking  their  stumpy  pipes,  reefed  and  tacked 
and  steered  with  great  solemnity  and  precision. 

Some  of  the  boats  were  painted  and  gilded  in  gaudy 
style,  and  flaunted  gay  pennons  from  their  mastheads; 
others,  white  as  snow,  with  every  spotless  sail  rounded 
by  the  wind,  looked  like  swans  borne  onward  by  a  resist- 
less current.  It  seemed  to  Ben,  as,  following  his  fancy, 
he  watched  one  of  these  in  the  distance,  that  he  could 
almost  hear  its  helpless,  terrified  cry;  but  he  soon  found 
that  the  sound  arose  from  a  nearer  and  less  romantic 
cause, — from  an  ice-boat,  not  fifty  yards  from  him,  using 
its  brakes  to  avoid  a  collison  with  a  peat-sled. 

It  was  a  rare  thing  for  these  boats  to  be  upon  the 


ON  THE  CANAL  151 

canal;  and  their  appearance  generally  caused  no  little 
excitement  among  skaters,  especially  among  the  timid: 
but  to-day  every  ice-boat  in  the  country  seemed  afloat, 
or,  rather,  aslide;  and  the  canal  had  its  full  share. 

Ben,  though  delighted  at  the  sight,  was  often  startled 
at  the  swift  approach  of  the  resistless,  high-winged  things, 
threatening  to  dart  in  any  and  every  possible  direction. 
It  required  all  his  energies  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the 
passers-by,  and  to  prevent  those  screaming  little  urchins 
from  upsetting  him  with  their  sleds.  Once  he  halted  to 
watch  some  boys  who  were  making  a  hole  in  the  ice, 
preparatory  to  using  their  fishing-spears.  Just  as  he 
concluded  to  start  again,  he  found  himself  suddenly 
bumped  into  an  old  lady's  lap.  Her  push-chair  had  come 
upon  him  from  the  rear.  The  old  lady  screamed;  the 
servant  who  was  propelling  her  gave  a  warning  hiss.  In 
another  instant  Ben  found  himself  apologizing  to  empty 
air:  the  indignant  old  lady  was  far  ahead. 

This  was  a  slight  mishap  compared  with  one  that  now 
threatened  him.  A  huge  ice-boat,  under  full  sail,  came 
tearing  down  the  canal,  almost  paralyzing  Ben  with  the 
thought  of  instant  destruction.  It  was  close  upon  him. 
He  saw  its  gilded  prow,  heard  the  schipper  shout,  felt 
the  great  boom  fairly  whiz  over  his  head,  was  blind, 
deaf  and  dumb,  all  in  an  instant,  then  opened  his  eyes, 
to  find  himself  spinning  some  yards  behind  its  great 
skate-like  rudder.  It  had  passed  within  an  inch  of  his 
shoulder;  but  he  was  safe, — safe  to  see  England  again, — 


152  HANS  DRINKER 

safe  to  kiss  the  dear  faces  that  for  an  instant  had  flashed 
before  him  one  by  one, — father,  mother,  Robby  and 
Jenny:  that  great  boom  had  dashed  their  images  into 
his  very  soul.  He  knew  now  how  much  he  loved  them. 
Perhaps  this  knowledge  made  him  face  complacently  the 
scowls  of  those  on  the  canal  who  seemed  to  feel  that  a 
boy  in  danger  was  necessarily  a  bad  boy,  needing  instant 
reprimand. 

Lambert  chided  him  roundly. 

"I  thought  it  was  all  over  with  you,  you  careless  fel- 
low !  Why  don't  you  look  where  you  are  going  ?  Not 
content  with  sitting  on  all  the  old  ladies'  laps,  you  must 
make  a  Juggernaut  of  every  ice-boat  that  comes  along. 
We  shall  have  to  hand  you  over  to  the  aanspreekers  yet, 
if  you  don't  look  out !" 

"Please  don't,"  said  Ben,  with  mock  humility;  then, 
seeing  how  pale  Lambert's  lips  were,  added  in  a  low 
tone, — 

"I  do  believe  I  thought  more  in  that  one  moment,  Van 
Mounen,  than  in  all  the  rest  of  my  past  life." 

There  was  no  reply;  and,  for  a  while,  the  two  boys 
skated  on  in  silence. 

Soon  a  faint  sound  of  distant  bells  reached  their  ears. 

"Hark  !"  said  Ben.    "What  is  that  ?" 

"The  carillons"  replied  Lambert.  "They  are  trying 
the  bells  in  the  chapel  of  yonder  village.  Ah,  Ben !  you 
should  hear  the  chimes  of  the  'New  Church'  at  Delft. 
They  are  superb, — nearly  five  hundred  sweet-toned  bells, 


ON  THE  CANAL  153 

and  one  of  the  best  carilloneurs  of  Holland  to  play  upon 
them.  Hard  work,  though:  they  say  the  fellow  often 
has  to  go  to  bed  from  positive  exhaustion  after  his  per- 
formances. You  see,  the  bells  are  attached  to  a  kind  of 
key-board,  something  like  they  have  on  piano-fortes: 
there  are  also  a  set  of  pedals  for  the  feet.  When  a  brisk 
tune  is  going  on,  the  player  looks  like  a  kicking  frog 
fastened  to  his  seat  with  a  skewer." 

"For  shame !"  said  Ben,  indignantly. 

Peter  had,  for  the  present,  exhausted  his  stock  of 
Haarlem  anecdotes;  and  now,  having  nothing  to  do  but 
to  skate,  he  and  his  three  companions  were  hastening 
to  "catch  up"  with  Lambert  and  Ben. 

"That  English  lad  is  fleet  enough,"  said  Peter.  "If 
he  were  a  born  Hollander,  he  could  do  no  better.  Gen- 
erally these  John  Bulls  make  but  a  sorry  figure  on  skates. — 
Halloo!  Here  you  are,  Van  Mounen:  why,  we  hardly 
hoped  for  the  honor  of  meeting  you  again.  Whom  were 
you  flying  from  in  such  haste?" 

"Snails,"  retorted  Lambert.     "What  kept  you?" 

"We  have  been  talking;  and,  besides,  we  halted  once 
to  give  Poot  a  chance  to  rest." 

"He  begins  to  look  rather  worn  out,"  said  Lambert, 
in  a  low  voice. 

Just  then  a  beautiful  ice-boat,  with  reefed  sail  and 
flying  streamers,  swept  leisurely  by.  Its  deck  was  filled 
with  children  mufHed  up  to  their  chins.  Looking  at  them 
from  the  ice,  you  could  see  only  smiling  little  faces  em- 


154  HANS  BRINKER 

bedded  in  bright-colored  woollen  wrappings.  They  were 
singing  a  chorus  in  honor  of  St.  Nicholas.  The  music, 
starting  in  the  discord  of  a  hundred  childish  voices, 
floated,  as  it  rose,  into  exquisite  harmony: — 

"  Friend  of  sailors  and  of  children, 

Double  claim  have  we, 
As,  in  youthful  joy,  we're  sailing 
O'er  a  frozen  sea. 

Nicholas,  St.  Nicholas, 
Let  us  sing  to  thee ! 

"While  through  wintry  air  we're  rushing, 

As  our  voices  blend, 
Are  you  near  us  ?     Do  you  hear  us, 
Nicholas,  our  friend  ? 

Nicholas,  St.  Nicholas, 
Love  can  never  end ! 

"Sunny  sparkles,  bright  before  us, 

Chase  away  the  cold; 
Hearts  where  sunny  thoughts  are  welcome 
Never  can  grow  old. 

Nicholas,  St.  Nicholas, 
Never  can  grow  old  ! 

"  Pretty  gift  and  loving  lesson, 

Festival  and  glee, 
Bid  us  thank  thee  as  we're  sailing 
O'er  the  frozen  sea. 

Nicholas,  St.  Nicholas, 
So  we  sing  to  thee !" 


XX 

JACOB  POOT  CHANGES  THE  PLAN 

THE  last  note  died  away  in  the  distance.  Our  boys, 
who,  in  their  vain  efforts  to  keep  up  with  the  boat,  had 
felt  that  they  were  skating  backward,  turned  to  look 
at  one  another. 

"How  beautiful  that  was!"  exclaimed  Van  Mou- 
nen. 

"Just  like  a  dream!"  said  Ludwig. 

Jacob  drew  close  to  Ben,  giving  his  usual  approving 
nod  as  he  spoke,— 

"Dat  ish  goot.  Dat  ish  te  pest  vay.  I  shay  petter  to 
take  to  Leyden  mit  a  poat !" 

"Take  a  boat!"  exclaimed  Ben,  in  dismay.  "Why, 
man,  our  plan  was  to  skate,  not  to  be  carried  like  little 
children." 

"Tuyfels!"  retorted  Jacob.  "Dat  ish  no  little — no 
papies — to  go  for  poat!" 

The  boys  laughed,  "but  exchanged  uneasy  glances.  It 
would  be  great  fun  to  jump  on  an  ice-boat,  if  they  had  a 

155 


156  HANS   BRINKER 

chance;  but  to  abandon  so  shamefully  their  grand  under- 
taking— who  could  think  of  such  a  thing  ? 

An  animated  discussion  arose  at  once. 

Captain  Peter  brought  his  party  to  a  halt. 

"Boys,"  said  he,  "it  strikes  me  that  we  should  consult 
Jacob's  wishes  in  this  matter.  He  started  the  excursion, 
you  know." 

"Pooh  !"  sneered  Carl,  throwing  a  contemptuous  glance 
at  Jacob.  "Who's  tired?  We  can  rest  all  night 
at  Leyden." 

Ludwig  and  Lambert  looked  anxious  and  disappointed. 
It  was  no  slight  thing  to  lose  the  credit  of  having  skated 
all  the  way  from  Broek  to  the  Hague,  and  back  again; 
but  both  agreed  that  Jacob  should  decide  the  question. 

Good-natured,  tired  Jacob  !  He  read  the  popular  sen- 
timent at  a  glance. 

"Oh,  no!"  he  said  in  Dutch.  "I  was  joking.  We 
will  skate,  of  course." 

The  boys  gave  a  delighted  shout,  and  started  on  again 
with  renewed  vigor. 

All  but  Jacob.  He  tried  his  best  not  to  seem  fatigued, 
and,  by  not  saying  a  word,  saved  his  breath  and  energy 
for  the  great  business  of  skating.  But  in  vain.  Before 
long,  the  stout  body  grew  heavier  and  heavier;  the  tot- 
tering limbs,  weaker  and  weaker.  Worse  than  all,  the 
blood,  anxious  to  get  as  far  as  possible  from  the  ice, 
mounted  to  the  puffy,  good-natured  cheeks,  and  made 
the  roots  of  his  thin,  yellow  hair  glow  into  a  fiery  red. 


JACOB   FOOT  CHANGES  THE  PLAN      157 

This  kind  of  work  is  apt  to  summon  vertigo,  of  whom 
good  Hans  Andersen  writes, — the  same  who  hurls  daring 
young  hunters  from  the  mountains,  or  spins  them  from 
the  sharpest  heights  of  the  glaciers,  or  catches  them  as 
they  tread  the  stepping-stones  of  the  mountain  torrent. 

Vertigo  came,  unseen,  to  Jacob.  After  tormenting 
him  a  while,  with  one  touch  sending  a  chill  from  head  to 
foot,  with  the  next  scorching  every  vein  with  fever,  she 
made  the  canal  rock  and  tremble  beneath  him,  the  white 
sails  bow  and  spin  as  they  passed,  then  cast  him  heavily 
upon  the  ice. 

"Halloo!"  cried  Van  Mounen.     "There  goes  Foot!" 

Ben  sprang  hastily  forward. 

"Jacob,  Jacob,  are  you  hurt  ?" 

Peter  and  Carl  were  lifting  him.  The  face  was  white 
enough  now.  It  seemed  like  a  dead  face;  even  the  good- 
natured  look  was  gone. 

A  crowd  collected.  Peter  unbuttoned  the  poor  boy's 
jacket,  loosened  his  red  tippet,  and  blew  between  the 
parted  lips. 

"Stand  off,  good  people!"  he  cried.    "Give  him  air!" 

"Lay  him  down,"  called  out  a  woman  from  the  crowd. 

"Stand  him  upon  his  feet,"  shouted  another. 

"Give  him  wine,"  growled  a  stout  fellow  who  was 
driving  a  loaded  sled. 

"Yes,  yes,  give  him  wine!"  echoed  everybody. 

Ludwig  and  Lambert  shouted  in  concert, — 

"Wine,  wine  !    Who  has  wine  ?" 


158  HANS   DRINKER 

A  sleepy-eyed  Dutchman  began  to  fumble  mysteriously 
under  the  heaviest  of  blue  jackets,  saying,  as  he  did 
so, — 

"Not  so  much  noise,  young  masters;  not  so  much 
noise !  The  boy  was  a  fool  to  faint  off  like  a  girl." 

"Wine,  quick!"  cried  Peter,  who,  with  Ben's  help, 
was  rubbing  Jacob  from  head  to  foot. 

Ludwig  stretched  forth  his  hand  imploringly  toward 
the  Dutchman,  who,  with  an  air  of  great  importance, 
was  still  fumbling  beneath  the  jacket. 

"Do  hurry  !    He  will  die  !    Has  any  one  else  any  wine  ?" 

"He  is  dead!"  said  an  awful  voice  from  among  the 
bystanders. 

This  startled  the  Dutchman. 

"Have  a  care!"  he  said,  reluctantly  drawing  forth  a 
small  blue  flask.  "This  is  schnapps.  A  little  is  enough." 

A  little  was  enough.  The  paleness  gave  way  to  a 
faint  flush.  Jacob  opened  his  eyes,  and,  half  bewildered, 
half  ashamed,  feebly  tried  to  free  himself  from  those  who 
were  supporting  him. 

There  was  no  alternative,  now,  for  our  party,  but  to 
have  their  exhausted  comrade  carried  in  some  way  to 
Leyden.  As  for  expecting  him  to  skate  any  more  that 
day,  the  thing  was  impossible.  In  truth,  by  this  time 
each  boy  began  to  entertain  secret  yearnings  toward 
ice-boats,  and  to  avow  a  Spartan  resolve  not  to  desert 
Jacob.  Fortunately  a  gentle,  steady  breeze  was  setting 


JACOB  FOOT  CHANGES  THE  PLAN      159 

southward.  If  some  accommodating  schipper1  would  but 
come  along,  matters  would  not  be  quite  so  bad,  after  all. 

Peter  hailed  the  first  sail  that  appeared.  The  men  in 
the  stern  would  not  even  look  at  him.  Three  drays  on 
runners  came  along;  but  they  were  already  loaded  to 
the  utmost.  Then  an  ice-boat,  a  beautiful,  tempting 
little  one,  whizzed  past  like  an  arrow.  The  boys  had 
just  time  to  stare  eagerly  at  it,  when  it  was  gone.  In 
despair,  they  resolved  to  prop  up  Jacob  with  their  strong 
arms  as  well  as  they  could,  and  take  him  to  the  nearest 
village. 

At  that  moment  a  very  shabby  ice-boat  came  in  sight. 
With  but  little  hope  of  success,  Peter  hailed  it,  at  the 
same  time  taking  off  his  hat,  and  flourishing  it  in  the 
air. 

The  sail  was  lowered;  then  came  the  scraping  sound  of 
the  brake;  and  a  pleasant  voice  called  out  from  the 
deck,- 

" What  now?" 

"Will  you  take  us  on?"  cried  Peter,  hurrying  with 
his  companions  as  fast  as  he  could;  for  the  boat  was 
"bringing  to"  some  distance  ahead, — "will  you  take  us 
on?" 

"We'll  pay  for  the  ride!"  shouted  Carl. 

The  man  on  board  scarcely  noticed  him,  except  to 
mutter  something  about  it's  not  being  a  trekschuit.  Still 
looking  toward  Peter,  he  asked, — 

1  Skipper,  master  of  a  small  trading-vessel,  a  pleasure-boat,  or  ice-boat. 


160  HANS  DRINKER 

"How  many?" 

"Six." 

"Well,  it's  Nicholas  Day — up  with  you !  Young  gentle- 
man sick  [nodding  toward  Jacob]  ?" 

"Yes,  broken  down — skated  all  the  way  from  Broek," 
answered  Peter.  "Do  you  go  to  Leyden?" 

"That's  as  the  wind  says.  It's  blowing  that  way  now. 
Scramble  up !" 

Poor  Jacob  !  if  that  willing  Mrs.  Poot  had  only  ap- 
peared just  then,  her  services  would  have  been  invaluable. 
It  was  as  much  as  the  boys  could  do  to  hoist  him  into 
the  boat.  All  were  in  at  last.  The  schipper,  puffing  away 
at  his  pipe,  let  out  the  sail,  lifted  the  brake,  and  sat  in 
the  stern  with  folded  arms. 

"Whew!  How  fast  we  go!"  cried  Ben.  "This  is 
something  like. —  Feel  better,  Jacob?" 

"Much  petter,  I  tanks  you." 

"Oh !  You'll  be  as  good  as  new  in  ten  minutes.  This 
makes  a  fellow  feel  like  a  bird." 

Jacob  nodded,  and  blinked  his  eyes. 

"Don't  go  to  sleep,  Jacob;  it's  too  cold.  You  might 
never  wake  up,  you  know.  Persons  often  freeze  to  death 
in  that  way." 

"I  no  sleep,"  said  Jacob,  confidently.  And  in  two 
minutes  he  was  snoring. 

Carl  and  Ludwig  laughed. 

"We  must  wake  him!"  cried  Ben.  "It  is  dangerous, 
I  tell  you. —  Jacob  !  Ja-a-c — " 


JACOB  FOOT  CHANGES  THE  PLAN      161 

Captain  Peter  interfered;  for  three  of  the  boys  were 
helping  Ben  for  the  fun  of  the  thing. 

"Nonsense!  Don't  shake  him!  Let  him  alone,  boys! 
One  never  snores  like  that  when  one's  freezing.  Cover 
him  up  with  something.  Here,  this  cloak  will  do. — 
Hey,  schipper?"  and  he  looked  toward  the  stern  for 
permission  to  use  it. 

The  man  nodded. 

"There,"  said  Peter,  tenderly  adjusting  the  garment: 
"let  him  sleep.  He  will  be  frisky  as  a  lamb  when  he  wakes. 
How  far  are  we  from  Leyden,  schipper  ? " 

"Not  more'n  a  couple  of  pipes,"  replied  a  voice,  rising 
from  smoke,  like  the  genii  in  fairy-tales  (puff,  puff); 
"likely,  not  more'n  one  an'  a  half"  (puff,  puff),  "if  this 
wind  holds"  (puff,  puff,  puff). 

"What  is  the  man  saying,  Lambert  ?"  asked  Ben,  who 
was  holding  his  mittened  hands  against  his  cheeks  to 
ward  off  the  cutting  air. 

"He  says  we're  about  two  pipes  from  Leyden.  Half 
the  boors  here  on  the  canal  measure  distances  by  the 
time  it  takes  them  to  finish  a  pipe." 

"How  ridiculous!" 

"See  here,  Benjamin  Dobbs,"  retorted  Lambert, 
growing  unaccountably  indignant  at  Ben's  quiet  smile, — 
"see  here.  You've  a  way  of  calling  every  other  thing 
you  see  on  this  side  of  the  German  Ocean  'ridiculous/ 
It  may  suit  you,  this  word;  but  it  don't  suit  me.  When 
you  want  anything  ridiculous,  just  remember  your  English 


162  HANS  BRINKER 

custom  of  making  the  Lord-Mayor  of  London,  at  his 
installation,  count  the  nails  in  a  horseshoe  to  prove  his 
learning." 

"Who  told  you  we  had  any  such  custom  as  that?" 
cried  Ben,  looking  grave  in  an  instant. 

"Why,  I  know  it:  no  use  of  any  one  telling  me.  It's 
in  all  the  books;  and  it's  true.  It  strikes  me,"  continued 
Lambert,  laughing  in  spite  of  himself,  "that  you  have 
been  kept  in  happy  ignorance  of  a  good  many  ridiculous 
things  on  your  side  of  the  map." 

"Humph!"  exclaimed  Ben,  trying  not  to  smile.  "I'll 
inquire  into  that  lord-mayor  business  when  I  get  home. 
There  must  be  some  mistake.  B-r-r-roooo !  How  fast 
we're  going!  This  is  glorious!" 

It  was  a  grand  sail,  or  ride,  I  scarce  know  which  to  call 
it:  perhaps  "fly"  would  be  the  best  word;  for  the  boys 
felt  very  much  as  Sindbad  did,  when,  tied  to  the  roc's 
leg,  he  darted  through  the  clouds;  or  as  Bellerophon 
felt  when  he  shot  through  the  air  on  the  back  of  his 
winged  horse,  Pegasus.  Sailing,  riding  or  flying,  which- 
ever it  was,  everything  was  rushing  past,  backward; 
and,  before  they  had  time  to  draw  a  long  breath,  Leyden 
itself,  with  its  high-peaked  roofs,  flew  half-way  to  meet 
them. 

When  the  city  came  in  sight,  it  was  high  time  to  waken 
the  sleeper.  That  feat  accomplished,  Peter's  prophecy 
came  to  pass.  Master  Jacob  was  quite  restored,  and  in 
excellent  spirits. 


JACOB  FOOT  CHANGES  THE  PLAN      163 

The  schipper  made  a  feeble  remonstrance  when  Peter, 
with  hearty  thanks,  endeavored  to  slip  some  silver-pieces 
into  his  tough,  brown  palm. 

"Ye  see,  young  master,"  said  he,  drawing  away  his 
hand,  "the  regular  line  o'  trade's  one  thing,  and  a  favor's 
another." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Peter;  "but  those  boys  and  girls  of 
yours  will  want  sweets  when  you  get  home.  Buy  them 
some  in  the  name  of  St.  Nicholas." 

The  man  grinned,  "Ay,  true  enough  !  I've  young 
uns  in  plenty, — a  clean  boat-load  of  them.  You  are  a 
sharp  young  master  at  guessing." 

This  time  the  knotty  hand  hitched  forward  again, 
quite  carelessly,  it  seemed;  but  its  palm  was  upward. 
Peter  hastily  dropped  in  the  money,  and  moved  away. 

The  sail  soon  came  tumbling  down.  Scrape,  scrape, 
went  the  brake,  scattering  an  ice-shower  round  the 
boat. 

"Good-by,  schipper!"  shouted  the  boys,  seizing  their 
skates,  and  leaping  from  the  deck,  one  by  one.  "Many 
thanks  to  you !" 

"Good-by!  good-b —    Hold!  here!  stop!    I  want  my 


coat." 


Ben  was  carefully  assisting  his  cousin  over  the  side  of 
the  boat. 

"What  is  the  man  shouting  about?  Oh,  I  know! 
You  have  his  wrapper  round  your  shoulders." 

"Dat  ish  true,"  answered  Jacob,  half  jumping,  half 


164  HANS   DRINKER 

tumbling,  down  upon  the  framework:   "dat  ish  vot  make 

him  sho  heavy." 

"Made  you  so  heavy,  you  mean,  Foot?" 

"Ya,  made  you  sho  heavy:    dat  ish  true,"  said  Jacob, 

innocently,  as  he  worked  himself  free  from  the  big  warp- 

per.      "Dere,  now  you  hands  it  mit  him  straightsway, 

and  tells  him  I  voz  much  tanks  for  dat." 

"Ho  for  an  inn!"  cried  Peter,  as  they  stepped  into 

the  city.    "Be  brisk,  my  fine  fellows!" 


XXI 

MYNHEER   KLEEF   AND   HIS    BILL   OF   FARE 

THE  boys  soon  found  an  unpretending  establishment 
near  the  Breedstraat  (Broad  Street),  with  a  funnily 
painted  lion  over  the  door.  This  was  the  Rood-Leeuw, 
or  Red  Lion,  kept  by  one  Huygens  Kleef,  a  stout  Dutch- 
man with  short  legs  and  a  very  long  pipe. 

By  this  time  they  were  in  a  ravenous  condition.  The 
tiffin  taken  at  Haarlem  had  served  only  to  give  them  an 
appetite;  and  this  had  been  heightened  by  their  exercise 
and  swift  sail  upon  the  canal. 

"Come,  mine  host,  give  us  what  you  can  !"  cried  Peter, 
rather  pompously. 

"I  can  give  you  anything — everything,"  answered 
Mynheer  Kleef,  performing  a  difficult  bow. 

"Well,  give  us  sausage  and  pudding." 

"Ah,  mynheer !  the  sausage  is  all  gone.  There  is  no 
pudding." 

"Salmagundi,  then,  and  plenty  of  it." 

"That  is  out,  also,  young  master." 

"Eggs;   and  be  quick." 

165 


i66  HANS  BRINKER 

"Winter  eggs  are  very  poor  eating,"  answered  the  inn- 
keeper, puckering  his  lips,  and  lifting  his  eyebrows. 

"No  eggs  ?    Well — caviare." 

The  Dutchman  raised  his  fat  hands. 

"Caviare!  That  is  made  of  gold  !  Who  has  caviare  to 
sell?" 

Peter  had  sometimes  eaten  it  at  home.  He  knew  that 
it  was  made  of  the  roes  of  the  sturgeon  and  certain  other 
large  fish;  but  he  had  no  idea  of  its  cost. 

"Well,  mine  host,  what  have  you  ?" 

"What  have  I  ?  Everything.  I  have  rye-bread,  sour- 
krout,  potato-salad,  and  the  fattest  herring  in  Leyden." 

"What  do  you  say,  boys?"  asked  the  captain.  "Will 
that  do?" 

"Yes,"  cried  the  famished  youths,  "if  he'll  only  be 
quick." 

Mynheer  moved  off  like  one  walking  in  his  sleep,  but 
soon  opened  his  eyes  wide  at  the  miraculous  manner  in 
which  his  herring  were  made  to  disappear.  Next  came, 
or  rather  went,  potato-salad,  rye-bread  and  coffee,  then 
Utrecht  water  flavored  with  orange,  and,  finally,  slices 
of  dry  gingerbread.  This  last  delicacy  was  not  on  the 
regular  bill  of  fare;  but  Mynheer  Kleef,  driven  to  ex- 
tremes, solemnly  produced  it  from  his  own  private  stores, 
and  gave  only  a  placid  blink  when  his  voracious  young 
travellers  started  up,  declaring  they  had  eaten  enough. 

"I  should  think  so!"  he  exclaimed  internally;  but  his 
smooth  face  gave  no  sign. 


KLEEF  AND  HIS  BILL  OF  FARE        167 

Softly  rubbing  his  hands,  he  asked, — 

"Will  your  worships  have  beds?" 

"Will  your  worships  have  beds  !"  mocked  Carl.  "What 
do  you  mean  ?  Do  we  look  sleepy  ?" 

"Not  at  all,  master.  But  I  would  cause  them  to  be 
warmed  and  aired.  None  sleep  under  damp  sheets  at 
the  Red  Lion." 

"Ah,  I  understand.  Shall  we  come  back  here  to  sleep, 
captain  ?" 

Peter  was  accustomed  to  finer  lodgings;  but  this  was 
a  frolic. 

"Why  not?"  he  replied.  "We  can  fare  excellently 
here." 

"Your  worship  speaks  only  the  truth,"  said  mynheer, 
with  great  deference. 

"How  fine  to  be  called  'Your  Worship!'"  laughed 
Ludwig  aside  to  Lambert;  while  Peter  replied,— 

"Well,  mine  host,  you  may  get  the  rooms  ready  by 


nine." 


"I  have  one  beautiful  chamber,  with  three  beds,  that 
will  hold  all  of  your  worships,"  said  Mynheer  Kleef, 
coaxingly. 

"That  will  do." 

"Whew!"  whistled  Carl,  when  they  reached  the  street. 

Ludwig  started.     "What  now?" 

"Nothing;  only  Mynheer  Kleef  of  the  Red  Lion  little 
thinks  how  we  shall  make  things  spin  in  that  same  room 
to-night.  We'll  set  the  bolsters  flying!" 


168  HANS   BRINKER 

"Order!"  cried  the  captain.  "Now,  boys,  I  must 
seek  this  great  Dr.  Boekman  before  I  sleep.  If  he  is  in 
Leyden,  it  will  be  no  great  task  to  find  him;  for  he  always 
puts  up  at  the  Golden  Eagle  when  he  comes  here.  I 
wonder  that  you  did  not  all  go  to  bed  at  once.  Still,  as 
you  are  awake,  what  say  you  to  walking  with  Ben  up 
by  the  Museum  or  the  Stadhuis?" 

"Agreed,"  said  Ludwig  and  Lambert;  but  Jacob  pre- 
ferred to  go  with  Peter.  In  vain  Ben  tried  to  persuade 
him  to  remain  at  the  inn,  and  rest.  He  declared  that  he 
never  felt  "petter,"  and  wished,  of  all  things,  to  take  a 
look  at  the  city;  for  it  was  his  first  "stop  mit  Leyden." 

"Oh,  it  will  not  harm  him  !"  said  Lambert.  "How  long 
the  day  has  been !  and  what  glorious  sport  we  have  had  ! 
It  hardly  seems  possible  that  we  left  Broek  only  this 
morning." 

Jacob  yawned. 

"I  have  enjoyed  it  well,"  he  said;  "but  it  seems  to  me 
at  least  a  week  since  we  started." 

Carl  laughed,  and  muttered  something  about  "twenty 
naps." 

"Here  we  are  at  the  corner.  Remember,  we  all  meet 
at  the  Red  Lion  at  eight,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  and 
Jacob  walked  away. 


XXII 

THE    RED    LION    BECOMES    DANGEROUS 

THE  boys  were  glad  to  find  a  blazing  fire  awaiting 
them  upon  their  return  to  the  Red  Lion.  Carl  and  his 
party  were  there  first.  Soon  afterward,  Peter  and  Jacob 
came  in.  They  had  inquired  in  vain  concerning  Dr. 
Boekman.  All  they  could  ascertain  was,  that  he  had 
been  seen  in  Haarlem  that  morning. 

"As  for  his  being  in  Leyden,"  the  landlord  of  the 
Golden  Eagle  had  said  to  Peter,  "the  thing  is  impossible. 
He  always  lodges  here  when  in  town.  By  this  time, 
there  would  be  a  crowd  at  my  door,  waiting  to  con- 
sult him.  Bah !  people  make  such  fools  of  them- 
selves!" 

"He  is  called  a  great  surgeon,"  said  Peter. 

"Yes,  the  greatest  in  Holland.  But  what  of  that  ? 
What  of  being  the  greatest  pill-choker  and  knife-slasher 
in  the  world  ?  The  man  is  a  bear.  Only  last  month, 
on  this  very  spot,  he  called  me  a  pig  before  three 

customers !" 

169 


170  HANS  BRINKER 

"No!"  exclaimed  Peter,  trying  to  look  surprised  and 
indignant. 

"Yes,  master, — a  pig"  repeated  the  landlord,  puffing 
at  his  pipe  with  an  injured  air.  "Bah  !  if  he  did  not  pay 
fine  prices,  and  bring  customers  to  my  house,  I  would 
sooner  see  him  in  the  Vleit  Canal  than  give  him 
lodgement/' 

Perhaps  mine  host  felt  that  he  was  speaking  too  openly 
to  a  stranger;  or  it  may  be  he  saw  a  smile  lurking  in 
Peter's  face,  for  he  added  sharply, — 

"Come,  now,  what  more  do  you  wish?  Supper? 
Beds?" 

"  No,  mynheer.    I  am  but  searching  for  Dr.  Boekman." 

"Go  find  him.    He  is  not  in  Leyden." 

Peter  was  not  to  be  put  off  so  easily.  After  receiving 
a  few  more  rough  words,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  per- 
mission to  leave  a  note  for  the  famous  surgeon;  or, 
rather,  he  bought  from  his  amiable  landlord  the  privilege 
of  writing  it  there,  and  a  promise  that  it  should  be 
promptly  delivered  when  Dr.  Boekman  arrived.  This 
accomplished,  Peter  and  Jacob  returned  to  the  Red  Lion. 

This  inn  had  once  been  a  fine  house,  the  home  of  a 
rich  burgher;  but,  having  grown  old  and  shabby,  it  had 
passed  through  many  hands,  until,  finally,  it  had  fallen 
into  the  possession  of  Mynheer  Kleef.  He  was  fond  of 
saying,  as  he  looked  up  at  its  dingy,  broken  walls,  "Mend 
it,  and  paint  it,  and  there's  not  a  prettier  house  in  Ley- 
den."  It  stood  six  stories  high  from  the  street.  The 


THE  RED  LION  BECOMES  DANGEROUS    171 

first  three  were  of  equal  breadth,  but  of  various  heights: 
the  last  three  were  in  the  great  high  roof,  and  grew  smaller 
and  smaller,  like  a  set  of  double  steps,  until  the  top  one 
was  lost  in  a  point.  The  roof  was  built  of  short,  shining 
tiles;  and  the  windows,  with  their  little  panes,  seemed 
to  be  scattered  irregularly  over  the  face  of  the  building, 
without  the  slightest  attention  to  outward  effect.  But 
the  public  room  on  the  ground-floor  was  the  landlord's 
joy  and  pride.  He  never  said,  "Mend  it,  and  paint  it" 
there;  for  everything  was  in  the  highest  condition  of 
Dutch  neatness  and  order.  If  you  will  but  open  your 
mind's  eye,  you  may  look  into  the  apartment. 

Imagine  a  large,  bare  room,  with  a  floor  that  seemed 
to  be  made  of  squares  cut  out  of  glazed  earthen  pie- 
dishes, — first,  a  yellow  piece,  then  a  red,  until  the  whole 
looked  like  a  vast  checker-board.  Fancy  a  dozen  high- 
backed  wooden  chairs  standing  around;  then  a  great 
hollow  chimney-place,  all  aglow  with  its  blazing  fire, 
reflected  a  hundred  times  in  the  polished  steel  fire-dogs; 
a  tiled  hearth,  tiled  sides,  tiled  top,  with  a  Dutch  sentence 
upon  it;  and  over  all,  high  above  one's  head,  a  narrow 
mantel-shelf,  filled  with  shining  brass  candlesticks,  pipe- 
lighters  and  tinder-boxes.  Then  see,  in  one  end  of  the 
room,  three  pine  tables;  in  the  other,  a  closet  and  a  deal 
dresser.  The  latter  is  filled  with  mugs,  dishes,  pipes, 
tankards,  earthen  and  glass  bottles;  and  is  guarded  at 
one  end  by  a  brass-hooped  keg,  standing  upon  long  legs. 
Everything  dim  with  tobacco-smoke,  but  otherwise  clean 


172  HANS  BRINKER 

as  soap  and  sand  can  make  it.  Next,  picture  two  sleepy, 
shabby-looking  men  in  wooden  shoes, — one  seated  near 
the  glowing  fireplace,  smoking  a  broken  pipe,  the  other 
pacing  the  room  restlessly;  Mynheer  Kleef  walking 
softly  and  heavily  about,  clad  in  leather  knee-breeches, 
felt  shoes,  and  a  green  jacket  wider  than  it  is  long; 
then  throw  a  heap  of  skates  in  the  corner,  and  put 
six  tired,  well-dressed  boys,  in  various  attitudes,  upon 
the  wooden  chairs, — and  you  will  see  the  coffee-room 
of  the  Red  Lion  just  as  it  appeared  at  nine  o'clock 
on  the  evening  of  December  6,  184 — .  For  supper, 
gingerbread  again,  slices  of  Dutch  sausage,  rye-bread 
sprinkled  with  anise-seed,  pickles,  a  bottle  of  Utrecht 
water,  and  a  pot  of  very  mysterious  coffee.  The  boys 
were  ravenous  enough  to  take  all  they  could  get,  and 
pronounce  it  excellent.  Ben  made  wry  faces;  but  Jacob 
declared  he  had  never  eaten  a  better  meal.  After  they 
had  laughed  and  talked  a  while,  and  counted  their  money, 
by  way  of  settling  a  discussion  that  arose  concerning 
their  expenses,  the  captain  marched  his  company  off  to 
bed,  led  on  by  a  greasy  pioneer-boy,  who  carried  skates 
and  a  candlestick,  instead  of  an  axe. 

One  of  the  ill-favored  men  by  the  fire  had  shuffled 
toward  the  dresser,  and  was  ordering  a  mug  of  beer,  just 
as  Ludwig,  who  brought  up  the  rear,  was  stepping  from 
the  apartment. 

"I  don't  like  that  fellow's  eye,"  he  whispered  to  Carl. 
"He  looks  like  a  pirate,  or  something  of  that  kind." 


THE  RED  LION  BECOMES  DANGEROUS    173 

"Looks  like  a  granny!"  answered  Carl,  in  sleepy 
disdain. 

Ludwig  laughed  uneasily. 

"Granny,  or  no  granny,"  he  whispered,  "I  tell  you, 
he  looks  just  like  one  of  those  men  in  the  voetspoelen" 

"Pooh!"  sneered  Carl.  "I  knew  it.  That  picture 
was  too  much  for  you.  Look  sharp,  now,  and  see  if 
yon  fellow  with  the  candle  doesn't  look  like  the  other 
villain." 

"No !  indeed.  His  face  is  as  honest  as  a  Gouda  cheese. 
But  I  say,  Carl,  that  really  was  a  horrid  picture." 

"Humph!     What  did  you  stare  at  it  so  long  for?" 

"I  couldn't  help  it." 

By  this  time,  the  boys  had  reached  the  "beautiful 
room  with  three  beds  in  it."  A  dumpy  little  maiden, 
with  long  earrings,  met  them  at  the  doorway,  dropped 
them  a  courtesy,  and  passed  out.  She  carried  a  long- 
handled  thing  that  resembled  a  frying-pan  with  a  cover. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that,"  said  Van  Mounen  to  Ben. 

"What?" 

"Why,  the  warming-pan.  It's  full  of  hot  ashes.  She's 
been  heating  our  beds." 

"Oh,  a  warming-pan,  eh !  Much  obliged  to  her,  I'm 
sure,"  said  Ben,  too  sleepy  to  make  any  further  comment. 

Meantime,  Ludwig  still  talked  of  the  picture  that  had 
made  such  a  strong  impression  upon  him.  He  had  seen 
it  in  a  shop-window  during  their  walk.  It  was  a  poorly 
painted  thing,  representing  two  men,  tied  back  to  back, 


174  HANS   BRINKER 

standing  on  shipboard,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  seamen, 
who  were  preparing  to  cast  them  together  into  the  sea. 
This  mode  of  putting  prisoners  to  death  was  called 
voetspoelen,  or  feet-washing,  and  was  practised  by  the 
Dutch  upon  the  pirates  of  Dunkirk  in  1605,  and  again 
by  the  Spaniards  upon  the  Dutch,  in  the  horrible  mas- 
sacre that  followed  the  siege  of  Haarlem.  Bad  as  the 
painting  was,  the  expression  upon  the  pirates'  faces  was 
well  given.  Sullen  and  despairing  as  they  seemed,  they 
wore  such  a  cruel,  malignant  aspect,  that  Ludwig  had 
felt  a  secret  satisfaction  in  contemplating  their  helpless 
condition.  He  might  have  forgotten  the  scene  by  this 
time,  but  for  that  ill-looking  man  by  the  fire.  Now 
while  he  capered  about,  boy-like,  and  threw  himself 
with  an  antic  into  his  bed,  he  inwardly  hoped  that  the 
voetspoelen  would  not  haunt  his  dreams. 

It  was  a  cold,  cheerless  room.  A  fire  had  been  newly 
kindled  in  the  burnished  stove,  and  seemed  to  shiver 
even  while  it  was  trying  to  burn.  The  windows,  with 
their  funny  little  panes,  were  bare  and  shiny;  and  the 
cold,  waxed  floor  looked  like  a  sheet  of  yellow  ice.  Three 
rush-bottomed  chairs  stood  stiffly  against  the  wall, 
alternating  with  three  narrow  wooden  bedsteads,  that 
made  the  room  look  like  the  deserted  ward  of  a  hospital. 
At  any  other  time  the  boys  would  have  found  it  quite 
impossible  to  sleep  in  pairs,  especially  in  such  narrow 
quarters;  but  to-night  they  lost  all  fear  of  being  crowded, 
and  longed  only  to  lay  their  weary  bodies  upon  the 


THE  RED  LION  BECOMES  DANGEROUS    175 

feather-beds  that  lay  lightly  upon  each  cot.  Had  the 
boys  been  in  Germany,  instead  of  Holland,  they  might 
have  been  covered,  also,  by  a  bed  of  down  or  feathers. 
This  peculiar  form  of  luxury  was  at  that  time  adopted 
only  by  wealthy  or  eccentric  Hollanders. 

Ludwig,  as  we  have  seen,  had  not  quite  lost  his  friski- 
ness;  but  the  other  boys,  after  one  or  two  feeble  attempts 
at  pillow-firing,  composed  themselves  for  the  night  with 
the  greatest  dignity.  Nothing  like  fatigue  for  making 
boys  behave  themselves. 

"Good-night,  boys!"  said  Peter's  voice  from  under 
the  covers. 

"Good-night!"  called  back  everybody  but  Jacob,  who 
already  lay  snoring  beside  the  captain. 

"I  say!"  shouted  Carl,  after  a  moment,  "don't  sneeze, 
anybody.  Ludwig's  in  a  fright." 

"No  such  thing!"  retorted  Ludwig,  in  a  smothered 
voice.  Then  there  was  a  little  whispered  dispute,  which 
was  ended  by  Carl  saying, — 

"For  my  part,  I  don't  know  what  fear  is;  but  you 
really  are  a  timid  fellow,  Ludwig." 

Ludwig  grunted  sleepily,  but  made  no  further  reply. 


It  was  the  middle  of  the  night.  The  fire  had  shivered 
itself  to  death;  and,  in  place  of  its  gleams,  little  squares 
of  moonlight  lay  upon  the  floor,  slowly,  slowly  shifting 
their  way  across  the  room.  Something  else  was  moving 
also;  but  they  did  not  see  it.  Sleeping  boys  keep  but 


176  HANS  DRINKER 

a  poor  lookout.  During  the  early  hours  of  the  night, 
Jacob  Foot  had  been  gradually  but  surely  winding  him- 
self with  all  the  bed-covers.  He  now  lay  like  a  monster 
chrysalis  beside  the  half-frozen  Peter,  who,  accordingly, 
was  skating  with  all  his  might  over  the  coldest,  bleakest, 
of  dreamland  icebergs. 

Something  else,  I  say,  besides  the  moonlight,  was 
moving  across  the  bare,  polished  floor, — moving  not 
quite  so  slowly,  but  quite  as  stealthily. 

Wake  up,  Ludwig !  The  voetspoelen  pirate  is  growing 
real. 

No.  Ludwig  does  not  waken;  but  he  moans  in  his 
sleep. 

Does  not  Carl  hear  it  ? — Carl,  the  brave,  the  fear- 
less. 

No.    Carl  is  dreaming  of  the  race. 

And  Jacob  ?    Van  Mounen  ?    Ben  ? 

Not  they.  They,  too,  are  dreaming  of  the  race;  and 
Katrinka  is  singing  through  their  dreams,  laughing, 
flitting  past  them.  Now  and  then  a  wave  from  the 
great  organ  surges  through  their  midst. 

Still  the  thing  moves,  slowly,  slowly. 

Peter  !    Captain  Peter,  there  is  danger ! 

Peter  heard  no  call.  But,  in  his  dream,  he  slid  a  few 
thousand  feet  from  one  iceberg  to  another;  and  the 
shock  awoke  him. 

Whew !  How  cold  he  was !  He  gave  a  hopeless, 
desperate  tug  at  the  chrysalis.  In  vain:  sheet,  blanket 


THE   RED  LION  BECOMES  DANGEROUS    177 

and  spread  were  firmly  wound  about  Jacob's  inanimate 
form.  Peter  looked  drowsily  toward  the  window. 

"Clear  moonlight,"  he  thought;  "we  shall  have 
pleasant  weather  to-morrow.  Halloo!  What's  that?" 

He  saw  the  moving  thing,  or,  rather,  something  black 
crouching  upon  the  floor;  for  it  had  halted  as  Peter 
stirred. 

He  watched  in  silence. 

Soon  it  moved  again,  nearer  and  nearer.  It  was  a  man 
crawling  upon  hands  and  feet. 

The  captain's  first  impulse  was  to  call  out;  but  he 
took  an  instant  to  consider  matters. 

The  creeper  had  a  shining  knife  in  one  hand.  This 
was  ugly;  but  Peter  was  naturally  self-possessed.  When 
the  head  turned,  Peter's  eyes  were  closed,  as  if  in  sleep; 
but,  at  other  times,  nothing  could  be  keener,  sharper, 
than  the  captain's  gaze. 

Closer,  closer,  crept  the  robber.  His  back  was  very 
near  Peter  now.  The  knife  was  laid  softly  upon  the  floor. 
One  careful  arm  reached  forth  stealthily  to  drag  the 
clothes  from  the  chair  by  the  captain's  bed.  The  robbery 
was  commenced. 

Now  was  Peter's  time.  Holding  his  breath,  he  sprang 
up,  and  leaped  with  all  his  strength  upon  the  robber's 
back,  stunning  the  rascal  with  the  force  of  the  blow.  To 
seize  the  knife  was  but  a  second's  work.  The  robber 
began  to  struggle;  but  Peter  sat  like  a  giant  astride  the 
prostrate  form. 


178  HANS   BRINKER 

"If  you  stir,"  said  the  brave  boy  in  as  terrible  a  voice 
as  he  could  command,  "stir  but  one  inch,  I  will  plunge 
this  knife  into  your  neck.  Boys,  boys!  Wake  up!" 
he  shouted,  still  pressing  down  the  black  head,  and 
holding  the  knife  at  pricking  distance.  "Give  us  a  hand  ! 
I've  got  him!  I've  got  him!" 

The  chrysalis  rolled  over,  but  made  no  other  sign. 

"Up,  boys!"  cried  Peter,  never  budging.  "Ludwig, 
Lambert!  Thunder!  Are  you  all  dead?" 

Dead  !  not  they !  Van  Mounen  and  Ben  were  on  their 
feet  in  an  instant. 

"Hey?    What  now?"  they  shouted. 

"I've  got  a  robber  here,"  said  Peter,  coolly.  "Lie 
still,  you  scoundrel,  or  I'll  slice  your  head  of! — Now, 
boys,  cut  out  your  bed-cord.  Plenty  of  time:  he's  a 
dead  man  if  he  stirs." 

Peter  felt  that  he  weighed  a  thousand  pounds.  So 
he  did,  with  that  knife  in  his  hand.  The  man  growled 
and  swore,  but  dared  not  move. 

Ludwig  was  up  by  this  time.  He  had  a  great  jack- 
knife,  the  pride  of  his  heart,  in  his  breeches'  pocket. 
It  could  do  good  service  now.  They  bared  the  bedstead 
in  a  moment.  It  was  laced  backward  and  forward  with 
a  rope. 

"I'll  cut  it,"  cried  Ludwig,  sawing  away  at  the  knot. 
"Hold  him  tight,  Pete!" 

"Never  fear!"  answered  the  captain,  giving  the  robber 
a  warning  prick. 


THE   RED  LION  BECOMES   DANGEROUS     179 

The  boys  were  soon  pulling  at  the  rope  like  good 
fellows.  It  was  out  at  last, — a  long,  stout  piece. 

"Now,  boys/'  commanded  the  captain,  "lift  up  his 
rascally  arms !  Cross  his  hands  over  his  back !  That's 
right — excuse  me  for  being  in  the  way — tie  them  tight !" 

"Yes,  and  his  feet  too,  the  villain!"  cried  the  boys 
in  great  excitement,  tying  knot  after  knot  with  Herculean 
jerks. 

The  prisoner  changed  his  tone. 

"Oh — oh!"  he  moaned,  "spare  a  poor  sick  man.  I 
was  but  walking  in  my  sleep." 

"Ugh!"  grunted  Lambert,  still  tugging  away  at  the 
rope.  "Asleep,  were  you?  Well,  we'll  wake  you  up." 

The  man  muttered  fierce  oaths  between  his  teeth,  then 
cried  in  a  piteous  voice,  "Unbind  me,  good  young  mas- 
ters !  I  have  five  little  children  at  home.  By  St.  Bavon 
I  swear  to  give  you  each  a  ten-guilder  piece,  if  you  will 
but  free  me!" 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Peter. 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  the  other  boys. 

Then  came  threats, — threats  that  made  Ludwig  fairly 
shudder,  though  he  continued  to  bind  and  tie  with  re- 
doubled energy. 

"Hold  up,  Mynheer  house-breaker !"  said  Van  Mounen, 
in  a  warning  voice.  "That  knife  is  very  near  your  throat. 
If  you  make  the  captain  nervous,  there  is  no  telling  what 
may  happen." 

The  robber  took  the  hint,  and  fell  into  a  sullen  silence. 


i8o  HANS   DRINKER 

Just  at  this  moment  the  chrysalis  upon  the  bed  stirred, 
and  sat  erect. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  without  opening  his 
eyes. 

"Matter!"  echoed  Ludwig,  half  trembling,  half  laugh- 
ing. "Get  up,  Jacob!  Here's  work  for  you.  Come  sit 
on  this  fellow's  back  while  we  get  into  our  clothes:  we're 
half  perished." 

"What  fellow?    Donder!" 

"Hurrah  for  Foot!"  cried  all  the  boys,  as  Jacob,  slid- 
ing quickly  to  the  floor,  bedclothes  and  all,  took  in  the 
state  of  affairs  at  a  glance,  and  sat  heavily  beside  Peter 
on  the  robber's  back. 

Oh,  didn't  the  fellow  groan  then ! 

"No  use  in  holding  him  down  any  longer,  boys,"  said 
Peter,  rising,  but  bending,  as  he  did  so,  to  draw  a  pistol 
from  his  man's  belt.  "You  see,  I've  been  keeping  guard 
over  this  pretty  little  weapon  for  the  last  ten  minutes. 
It's  cocked,  and  the  least  wriggle  might  have  set  it  off. 
No  danger  now.  I  must  dress  myself.  You  and  I,  Lam- 
bert, will  go  for  the  police.  I'd  no  idea  it  was  so  cold." 

"Where  is  Carl  ?"  asked  one  of  the  boys. 

They  looked  at  one  another.  Carl  certainly  was  not 
among  them. 

"Oh !"  cried  Ludwig,  frightened  at  last,  "where  is  he  ? 
Perhaps  he's  had  a  fight  with  the  robber,  and  got  killed." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Peter,  quietly,  as  he  buttoned 
his  stout  jacket.  "Look  under  the  beds." 


THE  RED  LION  BECOMES  DANGEROUS    181 

They  did  so.    Carl  was  not  there. 

Just  then  they  heard  a  commotion  on  the  stairway. 
Ben  hastened  to  open  the  door.  The  landlord  almost 
tumbled  in:  he  was  armed  with  a  big  blunderbuss.  Two 
or  three  lodgers  followed;  then  the  daughter,  with  an 
upraised  frying-pan  in  one  hand,  and  a  candle  in  the 
other;  and  behind  her,  looking  pale  and  frightened,  the 
gallant  Carl. 

"There's  your  man,  mine  host,"  said  Peter,  nodding 
toward  the  prisoner. 

Mine  host  raised  his  blunderbuss;  the  girl  screamed; 
and  Jacob,  more  nimble  than  usual,  rolled  quickly  from 
the  robber's  back. 

"Don't  fire!"  cried  Peter:  "he  is  tied,  hand  and  foot. 
Let's  roll  him  over,  and  see  what  he  looks  like." 

Carl  stepped  briskly  forward,  with  a  blustering,  "Yes. 
Will  turn  him  over  in  a  way  he  won't  like.  Lucky  we've 
caught  him !" 

"Ha,  ha  !"  laughed  Ludwig:  "where  were  you,  Master 
Carl?" 

"Where  was  I?"  retorted  Carl,  angrily.  "Why,  I 
went  to  give  the  alarm,  to  be  sure." 

All  the  boys  exchanged  glances;  but  they  were  too 
happy  and  elated  to  say  anything  ill-natured.  Carl 
certainly  was  bold  enough  now.  He  took  the  lead,  while 
three  others  aided  him  in  turning  the  helpless  man. 

While  the  robber  lay,  face  up,  scowling  and  muttering, 
Ludwig  took  the  candlestick  from  the  girl's  hand. 


182  HANS   BRINKER 

"I  must  have  a  good  look  at  the  beauty,"  he  said, 
drawing  closer;  but  the  words  were  no  sooner  spoken 
than  he  turned  pale,  and  started  so  violently  that  he 
almost  dropped  the  candle. 

"The  voetspoelen!"  he  cried.  "Why,  boys,  it's  the 
man  who  sat  by  the  fire!" 

"Of  course  it  is,"  answered  Peter.  "We  counted  our 
money  before  him  like  simpletons.  But  what  have  we 
to  do  with  voetspoelen.  Brother  Ludwig  ?  A  month  in 
jail  is  punishment  enough." 

The  landlord's  daughter  had  left  the  room.  She  now 
ran  in,  holding  up  a  pair  of  huge  wooden  shoes.  "See, 
father!"  she  cried,  "here  are  his  great  ugly  boots.  It's 
the  man  that  we  put  in  the  next  room  after  the  young 
masters  went  to  bed.  Ah !  it  was  wrong  to  send  the 
poor  young  gentlemen  up  here  so  far  out  of  sight  and 
sound." 

"The  scoundrel!"  hissed  the  landlord.  "He  has  dis- 
graced my  house.  I  go  for  the  police  at  once." 

In  less  than  fifteen  minutes,  two  drowsy-looking  officers 
were  in  the  room.  After  telling  Mynheer  Kleef  that  he 
must  appear  early  in  the  morning,  with  the  boys,  and 
make  his  complaint  before  a  magistrate,  they  marched 
off  with  their  prisoner. 

One  would  think  the  captain  and  his  band  could  have 
slept  no  more  that  night;  but  the  mooring  has  not  yet 
been  found  that  can  prevent  youth  and  an  easy  conscience 
from  drifting  down  the  river  of  dreams.  The  boys  were 


THE  RED  LION  BECOMES   DANGEROUS    183 

too  much  fatigued  to  let  so  slight  a  thing  as  capturing  a 
robber  bind  them  to  wakefulness.  They  were  soon  in 
bed  again,  floating  away  to  strange  scenes  made  of  famil- 
iar things.  Ben  dreamed  that  he  was  entering  a  city 
of  windmills.  Ludwig  and  Carl  had  spread  their  bedding 
upon  the  floor.  One  had  already  forgotten  the  voetspoelen, 
the  race,  everything;  but  Carl  was  wide  awake.  He 
heard  the  carillons  ringing  out  their  solemn  nightly  music, 
and  the  watchman's  noisy  clapper  putting  in  discord  at 
the  quarter  hours;  he  saw  the  moonshine  glide  away  from 
the  window,  and  the  red  morning  light  come  pouring  in; 
and  all  the  while  he  kept  thinking, — 

"Pooh  !    what  a  goose  I  have  made  of  myself!" 
Carl  Schummel  alone,  with  none  to  look  or  to  listen, 
was  not  quite  so  grand  a  fellow  as  Carl  Schummel  strut- 
ting about  in  his  boots. 


XXIII 

BEFORE    THE    COURT 

You  may  believe  the  landlord's  daughter  bestirred 
herself  to  prepare  a  good  meal  for  the  boys  next  morn- 
ing. Mynheer  had  a  Chinese  gong,  that  could  make 
more  noise  than  a  dozen  of  breakfast-bells.  Its  hideous 
reveille,  clanging  through  the  house,  generally  startled 
the  drowsiest  lodgers  into  activity;  but  the  maiden 
would  not  allow  it  to  be  sounded  this  morning. 

"Let  the  brave  young  gentlemen  sleep,"  she  said  to 
the  greasy  kitchen-boy;  "they  shall  be  warmly  fed  when 
they  waken." 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  Captain  Peter  and  his  band 
came  straggling  down,  one  by  one. 

"A  pretty  hour,"  said  mine  host,  gruffly.  "It  is  high 
time  we  were  before  the  court.  Fine  business  this  for  a 
respectable  inn.  You  will  testify  truly,  young  masters, 
that  you  found  most  excellent  fare  and  lodgement  at 
the  Red  Lion?" 

"Of  course  we  will,"    answered   Carl,   saucily,   "and 

184 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  185 

pleasant  company,  too,  though  they  visit  at  rather  un- 
seasonable hours." 

A  stare  and  a  "humph  !"  was  all  the  answer  mynheer 
made  to  this;  but  the  daughter  was  more  communica- 
tive. Shaking  her  ear-rings  at  Carl,  she  said  sharply, — 

"Not  so  very  pleasant,  either,  master  traveller,  if  one 
could  judge  by  the  way  you  ran  away  from  it !" 

"Impertinent  creature!"  hissed  Carl  under  his  breath, 
as  he  began  busily  to  examine  his  skate-straps.  Mean- 
time the  kitchen-boy,  listening  outside  at  the  crack  of 
the  door,  doubled  himself  with  silent  laughter. 

After  breakfast  the  boys  went  to  the  police  court, 
accompanied  by  Huygens  Kleef  and  his  daughter.  Myn- 
heer's testimony  was  principally  to  the  effect  that  such 
a  thing  as  a  robber  at  the  Red  Lion  had  been  unheard 
of  until  last  night;  and,  as  for  the  Red  Lion,  it  was  a 
most  respectable  inn, — as  respectable  as  any  house  in 
Leyden.  Each  boy,  in  turn,  told  all  he  knew  of  the 
affair,  and  identified  the  prisoner  in  the  box  as  the  same 
man  who  entered  their  room  in  the  dead  of  night.  Lud- 
wig  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  robber  was  a  man  of 
ordinary  size,  especially  after  he  had  described  him,  under 
oath,  to  the  court,  as  a  tremendous  fellow,  with  great 
square  shoulders,  and  legs  of  prodigious  weight.  Jacob 
swore  that  he  was  awakened  by  the  robber  kicking  and 
thrashing  upon  the  floor;  and,  immediately  afterward, 
Peter  and  the  rest  (feeling  sorry  that  they  had  not  ex- 
plained the  matter  to  their  sleepy  comrade)testified  that 


1 86  HANS   BRINKER 

the  man  had  not  moved  a  muscle  from  the  moment  the 
point  of  the  dagger  touched  his  throat,  until,  bound  from 
head  to  foot,  he  was  rolled  over  for  inspection.  The  land- 
lord's daughter  made  one  boy  blush,  and  all  the  court 
smile,  by  declaring  that,  "if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  hand- 
some young  gentleman  there"  (pointing  to  Peter),  they 
"might  have  all  been  murdered  in  their  beds;  for  the 
dreadful  man  had  a  great  shining  knife,  most  as  long  as 
your  Honor's  arm,"  and  she  believed  "the  handsome 
young  gentleman  had  struggled  hard  enough  to  get  it 
away  from  him;  but  he  was  too  modest  bless  him!  to 
say  so." 

Finally,  after  a  little  questioning  and  cross-questioning 
from  the  public  pr.osecutor,  the  witnesses  were  dismissed; 
and  the  robber  was  handed  over  to  the  mercies  of  the 
criminal  court. 

"The  scoundrel!"  said  Carl,  savagely,  when  the  boys 
reached  the  street.  "He  ought  to  be  sent  to  jail  at  once. 
If  I  had  been  in  your  place,  Peter,  I  certainly  should 
have  killed  him  outright." 

"He  was  fortunate,  then,  in  falling  into  gentler  hands," 
was  Peter's  quiet  reply.  "It  appears  he  has  been  arrested 
before  under  a  charge  of  house-breaking.  He  did  not 
succeed  in  robbing,  this  time;  but  he  broke  the  door- 
fastenings,  and  that,  I  believe,  makes  a  burglary  in  the 
eye  of  the  law.  He  was  armed  with  a  knife,  too;  and 
that  makes  it  worse  for  him,  poor  fellow." 

"Poor  fellow!"  mimicked  Carl.  "One  would  think 
he  was  your  brother." 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  187 

"So  he  is  my  brother,  and  yours,  too,  Carl  Schummel, 
for  that  matter/'  answered  Peter,  looking  into  Carl's 
eye.  "We  cannot  say  what  we  might  have  become  under 
other  circumstances.  We  have  been  bolstered  up  from 
evil  since  the  hour  we  were  born.  A  happy  home  and 
good  parents  might  have  made  that  man  a  fine  fellow, 
instead  of  what  he  is.  God  grant  that  the  law  may  cure, 
and  not  crush  him !" 

"Amen  to  that!"  said  Lambert,  heartily;  while  Lud- 
wig  van  Holp  looked  at  his  brother  in  such  a  bright, 
proud  way  that  Jacob  Foot,  who  was  an  only  son,  wished 
from  his  heart  that  the  little  form  buried  in  the  old 
church  at  home  had  lived  to  grow  up  beside  him. 

"Humph!"  said  Carl.  "It's  very  well  to  be  saintly 
and  forgiving,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing;  but  I'm  naturally 
hard.  All  these  fine  ideas  seem  to  rattle  off  of  me  like 
hailstones;  and  it's  nobody's  business,  either,  if  they 
do." 

Peter  recognized  a  touch  of  good  feeling  in  this  clumsy 
concession.  Holding  out  his  hand,  he  said  in  a  frank, 
hearty  tone, — 

"Come,  lad,  shake  hands,  and  let  us  be  good  friends, 
even  if  we  don't  exactly  agree  on  all  questions." 

"We  do  agree  better  than  you  think,"  sulked  Carl 
as  he  returned  Peter's  grasp. 

"All  right,"  responded  Peter,  briskly.  "Now,  Van 
Mounen,  we  await  Benjamin's  wishes.  Where  would  he 
like  to  go?" 


1 88  HANS   BRINKER 

"To  the  Egyptian  Museum,"  answered  Lambert,  after 
holding  a  brief  consultation  with  Ben. 

"That  is  on  the  Breedstraat.  To  the  museum  let  it 
be.  Come,  boys !" 


XXIV 

THE    BELEAGUERED    CITIES 

"THIS  open  square  before  us,"  said  Lambert,  as  he 
and  Ben  walked  on  together,  "is  pretty  in  summer,  with 
its  shady  trees.  They  call  it  the  Ruine.  Years  ago  it 
was  covered  with  houses;  and  the  Rapenburg  Canal, 
here,  ran  through  the  street.  Well,  one  day  a  barge 
loaded  with  forty  thousand  pounds  of  gunpowder,  bound 
for  Delft,  was  lying  alongside;  and  the  bargemen  took 
a  notion  to  cook  their  dinner  on  the  deck;  and,  before 
any  one  knew  it,  sir,  the  whole  thing  blew  up,  killing  lots 
of  persons,  and  scattering  about  three  hundred  houses 
to  the  winds." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Ben.  "Did  the  explosion  destroy 
three  hundred  houses?" 

"Yes,  sir.  My  father  was  in  Leyden  at  the  time.  He 
says  it  was  terrible.  The  explosion  occurred  just  at 
noon,  and  was  like  a  volcano.  All  this  part  of  the  town 
was  on  fire  in  an  instant,  buildings  tumbling  down,  and 

men,  women  and  children  groaning  under  the  ruins.    The 

189 


190  HANS  DRINKER 

king  himself  came  to  the  city,  and  acted  nobly,  father 
says,  staying  out  in  the  streets  all  night,  encouraging 
the  survivors  in  their  efforts  to  arrest  the  fire,  and  rescue 
as  many  as  possible  from  under  the  heaps  of  stone  and 
rubbish.  Through  his  means,  a  collection  for  the  benefit 
of  the  sufferers  was  raised  throughout  the  kingdom,  be- 
sides a  hundred  thousand  guilders  paid  out  of  the  treasury. 
Father  was  only  nineteen  years  old  then  (it  was  in  1807, 
I  believe);  but  he  remembers  it  perfectly.  A  friend  of 
his,  Professor  Luzac,  was  among  the  killed.  They  have 
a  tablet  erected  to  his  memory  in  St.  Peter's  Church, 
further  on, — the  queerest  thing  you  ever  saw,  with  an 
image  of  the  professor  carved  upon  it,  representing  him 
just  as  he  looked  when  he  was  found  after  the  explosion." 

"What  a  strange  idea !  Isn't  Boerhaave's  monument 
in  St.  Peter's  also?" 

"I  cannot  remember.     Perhaps  Peter  knows." 

The  captain  delighted  Ben  by  saying  that  the  monu- 
ment was  there,  and  that  he  thought  they  might  be  able 
to  see  it  during  the  day. 

"Lambert,"  continued  Peter,  "ask  Ben  if  he  saw  Van 
der  Werf  s  portrait  at  the  Town  Hall  last  night  ?" 

"No,"  said  Lambert,  "I  can  answer  for  him.  It  was 
too  late  to  go  in.  I  say,  boys,  it  is  really  wonderful  how 
much  Ben  knows.  Why,  he  has  told  me  a  volume  of 
Dutch  history  already.  I'll  wager  he  has  the  siege  of 
Leyden  at  his  tongue's  end." 

"His  tongue  must  burn,  then,"   interposed  Ludwig; 


THE   BELEAGUERED  CITIES  191 

"for,  if  Bilderdyk's  account  is  true,  it  was  a  pretty  hot 
affair." 

Ben  was  looking  at  them  with  an  inquiring  smile. 

"We  are  speaking  of  the  siege  of  Ley  den,"  explained 
Lambert. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Ben,  eagerly:  "I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it.  This  was  the  very  place.  Let's  give  old  Van 
der  Werf  three  cheers.  Hur— 

Van  Mounen  uttered  a  hasty  "Hush!"  and  explained 
that,  patriotic  as  the  Dutch  were,  the  police  would  soon 
have  something  to  say,  if  a  party  of  boys  cheered  in  the 
street  at  midday. 

"What!  not  cheer  Van  der  Werf?"  cried  Ben,  in- 
dignantly. "One  of  the  greatest  chaps  in  history  ?  Only 
think !  Didn't  he  hold  out  against  those  murderous 
Spaniards  for  months  and  months  !  There  was  the  town 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the  enemy,  great  black  forts 
sending  fire  and  death  into  the  very  heart  of  the  city, — 
but  no  surrender!  Every  man  a  hero;  women  and  chil- 
dren, too,  brave  and  fierce  as  lions;  provisions  giving 
out;  the  very  grass  from  between  the  paving-stones 
gone,  till  people  were  glad  to  eat  horses  and  cats  and 
dogs  and  rats.  Then  came  the  plague.  Hundreds  dying 
in  the  streets,  but  no  surrender.  Then,  when  they  could 
bear  no  more;  when  the  people,  brave  as  they  were, 
crowded  about  Van  der  Werf  in  the  public  square,  beg- 
ging him  to  give  up, — what  did  the  noble  old  burgo- 
master say?  'I  have  sworn  to  defend  this  city;  and, 


192  HANS   BRINKER 

with  God's  help,  /  mean  to  do  it !  If  my  body  can  satisfy 
your  hunger,  take  it,  and  divide  it  among  you,  but  expect 
no  surrender  so  long  as  I  am  alive. '  Hurrah  !  hur — " 

Ben  was  getting  uproarious;  Lambert  playfully  clapped 
his  hand  over  his  friend's  mouth.  The  result  was  one  of 
those  quick,  india-rubber  scuffles,  fearful  to  behold  but 
delightful  to  human  nature  in  its  polliwog  state. 

"Vat  wash  te  matter,  Pen?"  asked  Jacob,  hurrying 
forward. 

"Oh!  nothing  at  all,"  panted  Ben,  "except  that  Van 
Mounen  was  afraid  of  starting  an  English  riot  in  this 
orderly  town.  He  stopped  my  cheering  for  old  Van  der— 

"  Ya,  ya !  It  ish  no  goot  to  sheer,  to  make  te  noise  for 
dat.  You  vill  shee  old  Van  der  Does'  likeness  mit  de 
Stadhuis." 

"See  old  Van  der  Does?  I  thought  it  was  Van  der 
Werf's  picture  they  had  there." 

"Ya!"  responded  Jacob.  "Van  der  Werf— veil,  vot 
of  it  ?  Both  ish  just  ash  goot." 

"Yes,  Van  der  Does  was  a  noble  old  Dutchman;  but 
he  was  not  Van  der  Werf.  I  know  he  defended  the  city 
like  a  brick,  and— 

"Now  vot  for  you  shay  dat,  Penchamin  ?  He  no  de- 
fend te  citty  mit  breek:  he  fight  like  good  soltyer  mit 
his  guns.  You  like  make  te  fun  mit  effrysinks  Tutch." 

"No,  no,  no !  I  said  he  defended  the  city  like  a  brick. 
That  is  very  high  praise,  I  would  have  you  understand. 
We  English  call  even  the  Duke  of  Wellington  a  brick." 


THE  BELEAGUERED  CITIES  193 

Jacob  looked  puzzled;  but  his  indignation  was  already 
on  the  ebb. 

"Veil,  it  ish  no  matter.  I  no  tink  before,  soltyer  mean 
breek;  but  it  ish  no  matter." 

Ben  laughed  good-naturedly;  and,  seeing  that  his 
cousin  was  tired  of  talking  in  English,  he  turned  to  his 
friend  of  the  two  languages, — 

"Van  Mounen,  they  say  the  very  carrier-pigeons  that 
brought  news  of  relief  to  the  besieged  city  are  some- 
where here  in  Leyden.  I  really  should  like  to  see  them ! 
Just  think  of  it.  At  the  very  height  of  the  trouble,  if 
the  wind  didn't  turn,  and  blow  in  the  waters,  and  drown 
hundreds  of  the  Spaniards,  and  enable  the  Dutch  boats 
to  sail  in  right  over  the  land,  with  men  and  provisions, 
to  the  very  gates  of  the  city !  The  pigeons,  you  know, 
did  great  service  in  bearing  letters  to  and  fro.  I  have 
read,  somewhere,  that  they  were  reverently  cared  for 
from  that  day;  and,  when  they  died,  they  were  stuffed, 
and  placed  for  safe  keeping  in  the  Town  Hall.  We  must 
be  sure  to  have  a  look  at  them." 

Van  Mounen  laughed.  "On  that  principle,  Ben,  I 
suppose,  when  you  go  to  Rome,  you'll  expect  to  see  the 
identical  goose  that  saved  the  Capitol.  But  it  will  be 
easy  enough  to  see  the  pigeons.  They  are  in  the  same 
building  with  Van  der  Werfs  portrait.  Which  was  the 
greater  defence,  Ben, — the  siege  of  Leyden,  or  the  siege 
of  Haarlem?" 

"Well,"  replied  Ben,  thoughtfully,  "Van  der  Werf  is 


i94  HANS   BRINKER 

one  of  my  heroes.  We  all  have  our  historical  pets,  you 
know;  but  I  really  think  the  siege  of  Haarlem  brought 
out  a  braver,  more  heroic  resistance  even,  than  the  Ley- 
den  one;  besides,  they  set  the  Ley  den  sufferers  an  ex- 
ample of  courage  and  fortitude,  for  their  turn  came 
first." 

"I  don't  know  much  about  the  Haarlem  siege,"  said 
Lambert,  "except  that  it  was  in  1573.  Who  beat  ?" 

"The  Spaniards,"  said  Ben.  "The  Dutch  had  stood 
out  for  months.  Not  a  man  would  yield,  nor  a  woman, 
either,  for  that  matter.  They  shouldered  arms,  and 
fought  gallantly  beside  their  husbands  and  fathers. 
Three  hundred  of  them  did  duty  under  Kanau  Hesse- 
laer,  a  great  woman,  and  brave  as  Joan  of  Arc.  All  this 
time  the  city  was  surrounded  by  the  Spaniards  under 
Frederick  of  Toledo,  son  of  that  beauty,  the  Duke  of 
Alva.  Cut  off  from  all  possible  help  from  without,  there 
seemed  to  be  no  hope  for  the  inhabitants;  but  they 
shouted  defiance  over  the  city  walls.  They  even  threw 
bread  into  the  enemy's  camps,  to  show  that  they  were 
not  afraid  of  starvation.  Up  to  the  last,  they  held  out 
bravely,  waiting  for  the  help  that  never  could  come, 
growing  bolder  and  bolder  until  their  provisions  were  ex- 
hausted. Then  it  was  terrible.  In  time  hundreds  of  fam- 
ished creatures  fell  dead  in  the  streets;  and  the  living 
had  scarcely  strength  to  bury  them.  At  last  they  made 
the  desperate  resolution  that,  rather  than  perish  by  linger- 
ing torture,  the  strongest  would  form  in  a  square,  placing 


THE   BELEAGUERED  CITIES  195 

the  weakest  in  the  centre,  and  rush  in  a  body  to  their 
death,  with  the  faint  chance  of  being  able  to  fight  their 
way  through  the  enemy.  The  Spaniards  received  a 
hint  of  this;  and,  believing  there  was  nothing  the  Dutch 
would  not  dare  to  do,  they  concluded  to  offer  terms." 

"High  time,  I  should  think." 

"Yes;  with  falsehood  and  treachery  they  soon  ob- 
tained an  entrance  into  the  city,  promising  protection 
and  forgiveness  to  all  except  those  whom  the  citizens 
themselves  would  acknowledge  as  deserving  of  death." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  said  Lambert,  quite  interested. 
"That  ended  the  business,  I  suppose." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it !"  returned  Ben;  "for  the  Duke  of  Alva 
had  already  given  his  son  orders  to  show  mercy  to  none." 

"Ah !  there  was  where  the  great  Haarlem  massacre 
came  in.  I  remember  now.  You  can't  wonder  that  the 
Hollanders  dislike  Spain,  when  you  read  of  the  way  they 
were  butchered  by  Alva  and  his  hosts;  though  I  admit 
that  our  side  sometimes  retaliated  terribly.  But,  as  I 
have  told  you  before,  I  have  a  very  indistinct  idea  of 
historical  matters.  Everything  is  utter  confusion,  from 
the  flood  to  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  One  thing  is  plain, 
however,  the  Duke  of  Alva  was  about  the  worst  specimen 
of  a  man  that  ever  lived." 

"That  gives  only  a  faint  idea  of  him,"  said  Ben.  "But 
I  hate  to  think  of  such  a  wretch.  What  if  he  had  brains, 
and  military  skill,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing !  Give  me 
such  men  as  Van  der  Werf,  and —  What  now?" 


196  HANS   BRINKER 

"Why,"  said  Van  Mounen,  who  was  looking  up  and 
down  the  street  in  a  bewildered  way,  "we've  walked 
right  past  the  museum,  and  I  don't  see  the  boys.  Let 
us  go  back." 


XXV 

LEYDEN 

THE  boys  met  at  the  museum,  and  were  soon  engaged 
in  examining  its  extensive  collection  of  curiosities,  re- 
ceiving a  new  insight  into  Egyptian  life,  ancient  and 
modern.  Ben  and  Lambert  had  often  visited  the  British 
Museum;  but  that  did  not  prevent  them  from  being 
surprised  at  the  richness  of  the  Leyden  collection.  There 
were  household  utensils,  wearing  apparel,  weapons,  mu- 
sical instruments,  sarcophagi,  and  mummies  of  men, 
women  and  cats,  ibexes  and  other  creatures.  They  saw 
a  massive  gold  armlet  that  had  been  worn  by  an  Egyptian 
king  at  a  time  when  some  of  these  same  mummies,  per- 
haps, were  nimbly  treading  the  streets  of  Thebes;  and 
jewels  and  trinkets  such  as  Pharaoh's  daughter  wore, 
and  the  children  of  Israel  borrowed  when  they  departed 
out  of  Egypt. 

There  were  other  interesting  relics  from  Rome  and 
Greece  and  some  curious-  Roman  pottery,  which  had 

been   discovered  in   digging  near  the  Hague, — relics  of 

197 


198  HANS   BRINKER 

the  days  when  the  countrymen  of  Julius  Caesar  had 
settled  there.  Where  did  they  not  settle  ?  I,  for  one, 
would  hardly  be  astonished  if  relics  of  the  ancient  Romans 
should  some  day  be  found  deep  under  the  mass  growing 
round  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument. 

When  the  boys  left  this  museum,  they  went  to  another, 
and  saw  a  wonderful  collection  of  fossil  animals,  skeletons, 
birds,  minerals,  precious  stones  and  other  natural  speci- 
mens; but,  as  they  were  not  learned  men,  they  could 
only  walk  about  and  stare,  enjoy  the  little  knowledge 
of  natural  history  they  possessed,  and  wish  with  all  their 
hearts  they  had  acquired  more.  Even  the  skeleton  of 
the  mouse  puzzled  Jacob.  What  wonder !  He  was  not 
used  to  seeing  the  cat-fearing  little  creatures  running 
about  in  their  bones;  and  how  could  he  ever  have  imagined 
their  necks  to  be  so  queer  ? 

Besides  the  Museum  of  Natural  History,  there  was 
St.  Peter's  Church  to  be  visited,  containing  Professor 
Luzac's  Memorial,  and  Boerhaave's  Monument  of  white 
and  black  marble,  with  its  urn  and  carved  symbols  of 
the  four  ages  of  life,  and  its  medallion  of  Boerhaave, 
adorned  with  his  favorite  motto,  "Simplex  sigillum  veri" 
They  also  obtained  admittance  to  a  tea-garden,  which 
in  summer  was  a  favorite  resort  of  the  citizens,  and, 
passing  naked  oaks  and  fruit-trees,  ascended  a  high 
mound  which  stood  in  the  centre.  This  was  the  site  of 
a  round  tower,  now  in  ruins,  said  by  some  to  have  been 
built  by  Hengist,  the  Anglo-Saxon  king,  and  by  others 


LEYDEN  199 

to  have  been  the  castle  of  one  of  the  ancient  counts  of 
Holland. 

As  the  boys  walked  about  on  the  top  of  its  stone  wall, 
they  could  get  but  a  poor  view  of  the  surrounding  city. 
The  tower  stood  higher,  when,  more  than  two  centuries 
ago,  the  inhabitants  of  beleaguered  Leyden  shouted  to 
the  watcher  on  its  top  their  wild,  despairing  cries,  "Is 
there  any  help?"  "Are  the  waters  rising?"  "What 
do  you  see  ?" 

And  for  months  he  could  only  answer,  "No  help.  I 
see  around  us  nothing  but  the  enemy." 

Ben  pushed  these  thoughts  away;  and,  resolutely  look- 
ing down  into  the  bare  tea-garden,  rilled  it  in  imagi- 
nation with  gay  summer  groups.  He  tried  to  forget  old 
battle-clouds,  and  picture  only  curling  wreaths  of  to- 
bacco-smoke, rising  from  among  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren enjoying  their  tea  and  coffee  in  the  open  air.  But 
a  tragedy  came  in  spite  of  him. 

Foot  was  bending  over  the  edge  of  the  high  wall.  It 
would  be  just  like  him  to  grow  dizzy,  and  tumble  off. 
Ben  turned  impatiently  away.  If  the  fellow,  with  his 
weak  head,  knew  no  better  than  to  be  venturesome,  why, 
let  him  tumble.  Horror !  what  meant  that  heavy,  crash- 
ing sound  ? 

Ben  could  not  stir.     He  could  only  gasp, — 

"Jacob!" 

"Jacob!"  cried  another  startled  voice,   and  another. 

Ready  to  faint,  Ben  managed  to  turn  his  head.     He 


200  HANS  BRINKER 

saw  a  crowd  of  boys  on  the  edge  of  the  wall  opposite; 
but  Jacob  was  not  there. 

"Good  Heavens!"  he  cried,  springing  forward,  "where 
is  my  cousin  ? " 

The  crowd  parted.  It  was  only  four  boys,  after  all. 
There  sat  Jacob  in  their  midst,  holding  his  fat  sides,  and 
laughing  heartily. 

"Did  I  frighten  you  all  ?"  he  said  in  his  native  Dutch. 
"Well,  I  will  tell  you  how  it  was.  There  was  a  big  stone 
lying  on  the  wall,  and  I  put  my  foot  out,  just  to  push  it 
a  little,  you  see;  and,  the  first  thing  I  knew,  down  went 
the  stone  all  the  way  to  the  bottom,  and  left  me  sitting 
here  on  top  with  both  my  feet  in  the  air.  If  I  had  not 
thrown  myself  back  at  that  moment,  I  certainly  should 
have  rolled  over  after  the  stone.  Well,  it  is  no  matter. 
Help  me  up,  boys." 

"You  are  hurt,  Jacob,"  said  Ben,  seeing  a  shade  of 
seriousness  pass  over  his  cousin's  face  as  they  lifted  him 
to  his  feet. 

Jacob  tried  to  laugh  again.  "Oh,  no!  I  feels  little 
hurt  ven  I  stant  up;  but  it  ish  no  matter." 

The  monument  to  Van  der  Werf  in  the  Hooglandsche 
Kerk  was  not  accessible  that  day;  but  the  boys  spent 
a  few  pleasant  moments  in  the  Stadhuis,  or  Town  Hall, — 
a  long,  irregular  structure  somewhat  in  the  Gothic  style, 
uncouth  in  architecture,  but  picturesque  from  age.  Its 
little  steeple,  tuneful  with  bells,  seemed  to  have  been 


LEYDEN  201 

borrowed  from  some  other  building,  and  hastily  clapped 
on  as  a  finishing  touch. 

Ascending  the  grand  staircase,  the  boys  soon  found 
themselves  in  a  rather  gloomy  apartment,  containing 
the  masterpiece  of  Lucas  van  Leyden,  or  Hugens,  a 
Dutch  artist,  born  nearly  four  hundred  years  ago,  who 
painted  quite  cleverly  when  he  was  ten  years  of  age,  and 
became  distinguished  in  art  when  only  fifteen.  This 
picture,  called  the  "Last  Judgment,"  considering  the 
remote  age  in  which  it  was  painted,  is  truly  a  remarkable 
production.  The  boys,  however,  were  less  interested 
in  tracing  out  the  merits  of  the  work  than  they  were  in 
the  fact  of  its  being  a  triptych;  that  is,  painted  on  three 
divisions, — the  two  outer  ones  swung  on  hinges  so  as  to 
close,  when  required,  over  the  main  portion. 

The  historical  pictures  by  Harel  de  Moor,  and  other 
famous  Dutch  artists,  interested  them  for  a  while;  and 
Ben  had  to  be  almost  pulled  away  from  the  dingy  old 
portrait  of  Van  der  Werf. 

The  Town  Hall,  as  well  as  the  Egyptian  Museum,  is 
on  the  Breedstraat,  the  longest  and  finest  street  in  Ley- 
den.  It  has  no  canal  running  through  it;  and  the  houses, 
painted  in  every  variety  of  color,  have  a  picturesque 
effect  as  they  stand  with  their  gable-ends  to  the  street. 
Some  are  very  tall,  with  half  of  their  height  in  their  step- 
like  roofs;  others  crouch  before  the  public  edifices  and 
churches.  Being  clean,  spacious,  well-shaded,  and  adorned 
with  many  elegant  mansions,  it  compares  favorably  with 


202  HANS  DRINKER 

the  finer  portions  of  Amsterdam.  It  is  kept  scrupulously 
neat.  Many  of  the  gutters  are  covered  with  boards  that 
open  like  trap-doors;  and  it  is  supplied  with  pumps  sur- 
mounted with  shining  brass  ornaments,  kept  scoured 
and  bright  at  the  public  cost.  The  city  is  intersected 
by  numerous  water-roads  formed  by  the  river  Rhine, 
there  grown  sluggish,  fatigued  by  its  long  travel;  but 
more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  stone  bridges  reunite 
the  dissevered  streets.  The  same  world-renowned  river, 
degraded  from  the  beautiful,  free-flowing  Rhine,  serves 
as  a  moat  around  the  rampart  that  surrounds  Leyden, 
and  is  crossed  by  drawbridges  at  the  imposing  gateways 
that  give  access  to  the  city.  Fine  broad  promenades, 
shaded  by  noble  trees,  border  the  canals,  and  add  to  the 
retired  appearance  of  the  houses  behind,  heightening  the 
effect  of  scholastic  seclusion  that  seems  to  pervade  the 
place. 

Ben,  as  he  scanned  the  buildings  on  the  Rapenburg 
Canal,  was  somewhat  disappointed  in  the  appearance 
of  the  great  University  of  Leyden.  But  when  he  recalled 
its  history — how,  attended  with  all  the  pomp  of  a  grand 
civic  display,  it  had  been  founded  by  the  Prince  of  Orange 
as  a  tribute  to  the  citizens  for  the  bravery  displayed 
during  the  siege;  when  he  remembered  the  great  men 
in  religion,  learning  and  science,  who  had  once  studied 
there;  and  thought  of  the  hundreds  of  students  now 
sharing  the  benefits  of  its  classes,  and  its  valuable  scien- 
tific museums — he  was  quite  willing  to  forego  archi- 


LEYDEN  203 

tectural  beauty,  though  he  could  not  help  feeling  that 
no  amount  of  it  could  have  been  misplaced  on  such  an 
institution. 

Peter  and  Jacob  regarded  the  building  with  even  a 
deeper,  more  practical  interest;  for  they  were  to  enter 
it  as  students  in  the  course  of  a  few  months. 

"Poor  Don  Quixote  would  have  run  a  hopeless  tilt 
in  this  part  of  the  world,"  said  Ben,  after  Lambert  had 
been  pointing  out  some  of  the  oddities  and  beauties  of 
the  suburbs:  "it  is  all  windmills.  You  remember  his 
terrific  contest  with  one,  I  suppose." 

"No,"  said  Lambert,  bluntly. 

"Well,  I  don't,  either;  that  is,  not  definitely.  But 
there  was  something  of  that  kind  in  his  adventures;  and 
if  there  wasn't  there  should  have  been.  Look  at  them: 
how  frantically  they  whirl  their  great  arms ! — just  the 
thing  to  excite  the  crazy  knight  to  mortal  combat.  It 
bewilders  one  to  look  at  them.  Help  me  to  count  all 
those  we  can  see,  Van  Mounen.  I  want  a  big  item  for 
my  note-book."  And  after  a  careful  reckoning,  super- 
intended by  all  the  party,  Master  Ben  wrote  in  pencil, 
"Saw,  Dec. — 184-,  ninety-eight  windmills  within  full 
view  of  Ley  den." 

He  would  have  been  glad  to  visit  the  old  brick  mill  in 
which  the  painter  Rembrandt  was  born;  but  he  aban- 
doned the  project  upon  learning  that  it  would  take 
them  out  of  their  way.  Few  boys  as  hungry  as  Ben 
was  by  this  time  would  hesitate  long  between  Rem- 


204  HANS   BRINKER 

branch's  home  a  mile  off,  and  tiffin  close  by.  Ben  chose 
the  latter. 

After  tiffin,  they  rested  a  while,  and  then — took  an- 
other, which,  for  form's  sake,  they  called  dinner.  After 
dinner  the  boys  sat  warming  themselves  at  the  inn, — 
all  but  Peter,  who  occupied  the  time  in  another  fruitless 
search  for  Dr.  Boekman. 

This  over,  the  party  once  more  prepared  for  skating. 
They  were  thirteen  miles  from  the  Hague,  and  not  as 
fresh  as  when  they  had  left  Broek  early  on  the  previous 
day.  But  they  were  in  good  spirits,  and  the  ice  was 
excellent. 


XXVI 

THE    PALACE    AND   THE    WOOD 

As  the  boys  skated  onward,  they  saw  a  number  of 
fine  country-seats,  all  decorated  and  surrounded  ac- 
cording to  the  Dutchest  of  Dutch  taste,  but  impres- 
sive to  look  upon,  with  their  great  formal  houses,  elaborate 
gardens,  square  hedges  and  wide  ditches, — some  crossed 
by  a  bridge,  having  a  gate  in  the  middle  to  be  carefully 
locked  at  night.  These  ditches,  everywhere  traversing 
the  landscape,  had  long  ago  lost  their  summer  film,  and 
now  shone  under  the  sunlight  like  trailing  ribbons  of  glass. 

The  boys  travelled  bravely,  all  the  while  performing 
the  surprising  feat  of  producing  gingerbread  from  their 
pockets,  and  causing  it  to  vanish  instantly. 

Twelve  miles  were  passed.  A  few  more  strokes  would 
take  them  to  the  Hague,  when  Van  Mounen  proposed 
that  they  should  vary  their  course  by  walking  into  the 
city  through  the  Bosch. 

"Agreed!"  cried  one  and  all;    and  their  skates  were 

off  in  a  twinkling. 

205 


206  HANS  BRINKER 

The  Bosch  is  a  grand  park,  or  wood,  nearly  two  miles 
long,  containing  the  celebrated  House  in  the  Wood, — 
Huis  int  Bosch, — sometimes  used  as  a  royal  residence. 

This  building,  though  plain  outside  for  a  palace,  is 
elegantly  furnished  within,  and  finely  frescoed;  that  is, 
the  walls  and  ceiling  are  covered  with  groups  and  designs 
painted  directly  upon  them  while  the  plaster  was  fresh. 
Some  of  the  rooms  are  tapestried  with  Chinese  silk, 
beautifully  embroidered.  One  contains  a  number  of 
family  portraits,  among  them  a  group  of  royal  children, 
who  in  time  were  orphaned  by  a  certain  axe  which  figures 
very  frequently  in  European  history.  These  children 
were  painted  many  times  by  the  Dutch  artist  Van  Dyck, 
who  was  court-painter  to  their  father,  Charles  the  First 
of  England.  Beautiful  children  they  were.  What  a  deal 
of  trouble  the  English  nation  would  have  been  spared, 
had  they  been  as  perfect  in  heart  and  soul  as  they  were 
in  form ! 

The  park  surrounding  the  palace  is  charming,  espe- 
cially in  summer;  for  flowers  and  birds  make  it  bright  as 
fairyland.  Long  rows  of  magnificent  oaks  rear  their 
proud  heads,  conscious  that  no  profaning  hand  will  ever 
bring  them  low.  In  fact,  the  Wood  has  for  ages  been 
held  as  an  almost  sacred  spot.  Children  are  never  allowed 
to  meddle  with  its  smallest  twig:  the  axe  of  the  woodman 
has  never  resounded  there.  Even  war  and  riot  have 
passed  it  reverently,  pausing  for  a  moment  in  their  dev- 
astating way.  Philip  of  Spain,  while  he  ordered  Dutch- 


THE  PALACE  AND  THE  WOOD         207 

men  to  be  mowed  down  by  hundreds,  issued  a  mandate 
that  not  a  bough  of  the  beautiful  Wood  should  be  touched. 
And  once,  when,  in  a  time  of  great  necessity,  the  State 
was  about  to  sacrifice  it  to  assist  in  filling  a  nearly  ex- 
hausted treasury,  the  people  rushed  to  the  rescue,  and 
nobly  contributed  the  required  amount  rather  than  that 
the  Bosch  should  fall. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  the  oaks  have  a  grand,  fear- 
less air  ?  Birds  from  all  Holland  have  told  them  how, 
elsewhere,  trees  are  cropped  and  bobbed  into  shape; 
but  they  are  untouched.  Year  after  year,  they  expand 
in  undipped  luxuriance  and  beauty.  Their  wide-spread- 
ing foliage,  alive  with  song,  casts  a  cool  shade  over  lawn 
and  pathway,  or  bows  to  its  image  in  the  sunny  ponds. 

Meanwhile,  as  if  to  reward  the  citizens  for  allowing 
her  to  have  her  way  for  once,  Nature  departs  from  the 
invariable  level,  wearing  gracefully  the  ornaments  that 
have  been  reverently  bestowed  upon  her.  So  the  lawn 
slopes  in  a  velvety  green;  the  paths  wind  in  and  out; 
flower-beds  glow  and  send  forth  perfume;  and  ponds  and 
sky  look  at  each  other  in  mutual  admiration. 

Even  on  that  winter  day,  the  Bosch  was  beautiful. 
Its  trees  were  bare;  but  beneath  them  still  lay  the  ponds, 
every  ripple  smoothed  into  glass.  The  blue  sky  was 
bright  overhead;  and,  as  it  looked  down  through  the 
thicket  of  boughs,  it  saw  another  blue  sky,  not  nearly 
so  bright,  looking  up  from  the  dim  thicket  under  the 
ice. 


208  HANS  BRINKER 

Peter  drew  a  vivid  picture  of  its  summer  charms,  and 
made  the  boys  smile  as  he  glowingly  described  the  noble 
ladies  and  pretty  girls  in  holiday  array,  whom  he  had  met 
in  his  afternoon  walks  to  the  delightful  park. 

Never  had  the  sunset  appeared  more  beautiful  to  Peter 
than  when  he  saw  it  exchanging  farewell  glances  with 
the  windows  and  shining  roofs  of  the  city  before  him. 
Never  had  the  Hague  itself  seemed  more  inviting.  He 
was  no  longer  Peter  van  Holp,  going  to  visit  a  great  city, 
nor  a  fine  young  gentleman  bent  on  sight-seeing:  he  was 
a  knight,  an  adventurer  travel-soiled  and  weary,  a  Hop- 
o'-my-thumb  grown  large,  a  Fortunatus  approaching  the 
enchanted  castle  where  luxury  and  ease  awaited  him; 
for  his  own  sister's  house  was  not  half  a  mile  away. 

"At  last,  boys,"  he  cried  in  high  glee,  "we  may  hope 
for  a  royal  resting-place, — good  beds,  warm  rooms,  and 
something  to  eat.  Our  lodgings  at  the  Red  Lion  have 
made  us  appreciate  our  own  homes." 


XXVII 

THE   MERCHANT   PRINCE    AND   THE    PRINCESS 

WELL  might  Peter  feel  that  his  sister's  house  was  like 
an  enchanted  castle.  Large  and  elegant  as  it  was,  a 
spell  of  quiet  hung  over  it.  The  very  lion  crouching  at 
its  gate  seemed  to  have  been  turned  into  stone  through 
magic.  Within,  it  was  guarded  by  genii,  in  the  shape 
of  red-faced  servants,  who  sprang  silently  forth  at  the 
summons  of  bell  or  knocker.  There  was  a  cat,  also,  who 
appeared  as  knowing  as  any  Puss-in-Boots;  and  a  brass 
gnome  in  the  hall,  whose  business  it  was  to  stand  with 
outstretched  arms  ready  to  receive  sticks  and  umbrellas. 
Safe  within  the  walls  bloomed  a  Garden  of  Delight, 
where  the  flowers  firmly  believed  it  was  summer,  and  a 
sparkling  fountain  was  laughing  merrily  to  itself  because 
Jack  Frost  could  not  find  it.  There  was  a  Sleeping  Beauty, 
too,  just  at  the  time  of  the  boys'  arrival.  But  when 
Peter,  like  a  true  prince,  flew  lightly  up  the  stairs,  and 
kissed  her  eyelids,  the  enchantment  was  broken.  The 

princess  became  his  own  good  sister,  and  the  fairy  castle 

209 


210  HANS  BRINKER 

just  one  of  the  finest,  most  comfortable  houses  of  the 
Hague. 

As  may  well  be  believed,  the  boys  received  the  heartiest 
of  welcomes.  After  they  had  conversed  a  while  with 
their  lively  hostess,  one  of  the  genii  summoned  them  to 
a  grand  repast  in  a  red-curtained  room,  where  floor  and 
ceiling  shone  like  polished  ivory;  and  the  mirrors  sud- 
denly blossomed  into  rosy-cheeked  boys  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach. 

They  had  caviare  now,  and  salmagundi,  and  sausage 
and  cheese,  besides  salad  and  fruit  and  biscuit  and  cake. 
How  the  boys  could  partake  of  such  a  medley  was  a 
mystery  to  Ben;  for  the  salad  was  sour,  and  the  cake 
was  sweet;  the  fruit  was  dainty,  and  the  salmagundi 
heavy  with  onions  and  fish.  But,  while  he  was  wonder- 
ing, he  made  a  hearty  meal,  and  was  soon  absorbed  in 
deciding  which  he  really  preferred, — the  coffee,  or  the 
anisette  cordial.  It  was  delightful,  too, — this  taking 
one's  food  from  dishes  of  frosted  silver,  and  liquor-glasses 
from  which  Titania  herself  might  have  sipped.  The 
young  gentleman  afterward  wrote  to  his  mother,  that, 
pretty  and  choice  as  things  were  at  home,  he  had  never 
known  what  cut  glass,  china,  and  silver  services  were 
until  he  visited  the  Hague. 

Of  course  Peter's  sister  soon  heard  of  all  the  boys' 
adventures, — how  they  had  skated  over  forty  miles,  and 
seen  rare  sights  on  the  way;  how  they  had  lost  their 
purse,  and  found  it  again;  how  one  of  the  party  had 


MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS    211 

fallen,  and  given  them  an  excuse  for  a  grand  sail  in  an 
ice-boat;  how,  above  all,  they  had  caught  a  robber, 
and  so,  for  a  second  time,  saved  their  slippery  purse. 

"And  now,  Peter,"  said  the  lady,  when  the  story  was 
finished,  "you  must  write  at  once  to  tell  the  good  people 
of  Broek  that  your  adventures  have  reached  their  height, 
that  you  and  your  fellow-travellers  have  all  been  taken 
prisoners." 

The  boys  looked  startled. 

"Indeed,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,"  laughed  Peter. 
"We  must  leave  to-morrow  at  noon." 

But  the  sister  had  already  decided  differently;  and  a 
Holland  lady  is  not  to  be  easily  turned  from  her  purpose. 
In  short,  she  held  forth  such  strong  temptations,  and 
was  so  bright  and  cheerful,  and  said  so  many  coaxing 
and  unanswerable  things,  both  in  English  and  Dutch, 
that  the  boys  were  all  delighted  when  it  was  settled  that 
they  should  remain  at  the  Hague  for  at  least  two  days. 

Next  the  grand  skating-race  was  talked  over.  Me- 
vrouw  van  Gend  gladly  promised  to  be  present  on  the 
occasion.  "I  shall  witness  your  triumph,  Peter,"  she 
said;  "for  you  are  the  fastest  skater  I  ever  knew." 

Peter  blushed,  and  gave  a  slight  cough,  as  Carl  an- 
swered for  him. 

"Ah,  mevrouw,  he  is  swift:  but  all  the  Broek  boys  are 
fine  skaters,  even  the  rag-pickers;"  and  he  thought 
bitterly  of  poor  Hans. 

The  lady  laughed.     "That  will  make  the  race  all  the 


212  HANS  BRINKER 

more  exciting,"  she  said.  "But  I  shall  wish  each  of  you 
to  be  the  winner." 

At  this  moment  her  husband,  Mynheer  van  Gend, 
came  in;  and  the  enchantment  falling  upon  the  boys 
was  complete. 

The  invisible  fairies  of  the  household  at  once  clustered 
a'bout  them,  whispering  that  Jasper  van  Gend  had  a 
heart  as  young  and  fresh  as  their  own;  and,  if  he  loved 
anything  in  this  world  more  than  industry,  it  was  sun- 
shine and  frolic.  They  hinted,  also,  something  about 
his  having  a  heart  full  of  love,  and  a  head  full  of  wisdom, 
and  finally  gave  the  boys  to  understand,  that,  when  myn- 
heer said  a  thing,  he  meant  it. 

Therefore  his  frank  "Well  now,  this  is  pleasant,"  as 
he  shook  hands  with  them  all,  made  the  boys  feel  quite 
at  home,  and  as  happy  as  squirrels. 

There  were  fine  paintings  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
exquisite  statuary,  and  portfolios  filled  with  rare  Dutch 
engravings,  besides  many  beautiful  and  curious  things 
from  China  and  Japan.  The  boys  felt  that  it  would 
require  a  month  to  examine  all  the  treasures  of  the 
apartment. 

Ben  noticed  with  pleasure  English  books  lying  upon 
the  table.  He  saw,  also,  over  the  carved,  upright  piano, 
life-sized  portraits  of  William  of  Orange  and  his  English 
queen, — a  sight  that  for  a  time  brought  England  and 
Holland  side  by  side  in  his  heart.  William  and  Mary 
have  left  a  halo  round  the  English  throne  to  this  day, — 


MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS    213 

he  the  truest  patriot  that  ever  served  an  adopted  coun- 
try; she  the  noblest  wife  that  ever  sat  upon  a  British 
throne  up  to  the  time  of  Victoria,  and  Albert  the  Good. 
As  Ben  looked  at  the  pictures,  he  remembered  accounts 
he  had  read  of  King  William's  visit  to  the  Hague  in  the 
winter  of  1691.  He  who  sang  the  "Battle  of  Ivry,"  had 
not  yet  told  the  glowing  story  of  that  day;  but  Ben 
knew  enough  of  it  to  fancy  that  he  could  almost  hear 
the  shouts  of  the  delighted  populace  as  he  looked  from 
the  portraits  to  the  street,  which  at  this  moment  was 
aglow  with  a  bonfire,  kindled  in  a  neighboring  square. 

That  royal  visit  was  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  For 
two  years  William  of  Orange  had  been  monarch  of  a 
foreign  land,  his  head  working  faithfully  for  England, 
but  his  whole  heart  yearning  for  Holland.  Now,  when 
he  sought  its  shores  once  more,  the  entire  nation  bade 
him  welcome.  Multitudes  flocked  to  the  Hague  to  meet 
him.  "Many  thousands  came  sliding  or  skating  along 
the  frozen  canals  from  Amsterdam,  Rotterdam,  Leyden, 
Haarlem,  Delft."1  "All  day  long  the  festivities  of  the 
capital  were  kept  up.  The  streets  were  gorgeous  with 
banners,  evergreen  arches,  trophies  and  mottoes  of  wel- 
come, and  emblems  of  industry.  William  saw  the  deeds 
of  his  ancestors,  and  scenes  of  his  own  past  life,  depicted 
on  banners  and  tapestries  along  the  streets.  At  night, 
superb  fireworks  were  displayed  upon  the  ice.  Its  glassy 
surface  was  like  a  mirror.  Sparkling  fountains  of  light 

1  Macaulay's  History  of  England. 


214  HANS  BRINKER 

sprang  up  from  below  to  meet  the  glittering  cascades 
leaping  upon  it;  then  a  feathery  fire  of  crimson  and 
green  shook  millions  of  rubies  and  emeralds  into  the 
ruddy  depths  of  the  ice:"  and  all  this  time  the  people 
were  shouting,  "God  bless  William  of  Orange!  Long 
live  the  King!"  They  were  half  mad  with  joy  and  en- 
thusiasm. William,  their  own  prince,  their  stadtholder, 
had  become  the  ruler  of  three  kingdoms.  He  had  been 
victorious  in  council  and  in  war,  and  now,  in  his  hour  of 
greatest  triumph,  had  come  as  a  simple  guest  to  visit 
them.  The  king  heard  their  shouts  with  a  beating  heart. 
It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  beloved  by  one's  country.  His 
English  courtiers  complimented  him  upon  his  reception. 
"Yes,"  said  he;  "but  the  shouting  is  nothing  to  what 
it  would  have  been  if  Mary  had  been  with  me!" 

While  Ben  was  looking  at  the  portraits,  Mynheer  van 
Gend  was  giving  the  boys  an  account  of  a  recent  visit 
to  Antwerp.  As  it  was  the  birthplace  of  Quentin  Matsys, 
the  blacksmith  who  for  love  of  an  artist's  daughter 
studied  until  he  became  a  great  painter,  the  boys  asked 
their  host  if  he  had  seen  any  of  Matsys'  works. 

"Yes,  indeed!"  he  replied;  "and  excellent  they  are. 
His  famous  triptych  in  a  chapel  of  the  Antwerp  Cathedral, 
with  the  Descent  from  the  Cross  on  the  centre  panel, 
is  especially  fine;  but  I  confess  I  was  more  interested  in 
his  well." 

"What  well,  mynheer?"  asked  Ludwig. 

"One  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  near  this  same  cathedral, 


MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS    215 

whose  lofty  steeple  is  of  such  delicate  workmanship  that 
the  French  emperor  said  it  reminded  him  of  Mechlin 
lace.  The  well  is  covered  with  a  Gothic  canopy,  sur- 
mounted by  the  figure  of  a  knight  in  full  armor.  It  is 
all  of  metal,  and  proves  that  Matsys  was  an  artist  at 
the  forge  as  well  as  at  the  easel:  indeed,  his  great  fame  is 
mainly  derived  from  his  miraculous  skill  as  an  artificer 


in  iron." 


Next,  mynheer  showed  the  boys  some  exquisite  Berlin 
castings,  which  he  had  purchased  in  Antwerp.  They 
were  iron  jewelry,  and  very  delicate, — beautiful  medal- 
lions designed  from  rare  paintings,  bordered  with  fine 
tracery  and  openwork, — worthy,  he  said,  of  being  worn 
by  the  fairest  lady  of  the  land.  Consequently  the  neck- 
lace was  handed,  with  a  bow  and  a  smile,  to  the  blush- 
ing Mevrouw  van  Gend. 

Something  in  the  lady's  aspect  as  she  bent  her  bright 
young  face  over  the  gift  caused  mynheer  to  add  ear- 
nestly,— 

"I  can  read  your  thoughts,  sweetheart." 

She  looked  up  in  playful  defiance. 

"Ah !  now  I  am  sure  of  them.  You  were  thinking  of 
those  noble-hearted  women,  but  for  whom  Prussia  might 
have  fallen.  I  know  it  by  that  proud  light  in  your  eye." 

"The  proud  light  in  my  eye  plays  me  false,  then," 
she  answered.  "I  had  no  such  grand  matter  in  my  mind. 
To  confess  the  simple  truth,  I  was  only  thinking  how 
lovely  this  necklace  would  be  with  my  blue  brocade." 


2i6  HANS  BRINKER 

"So,  so!"  exclaimed  the  rather  crestfallen  spouse. 

"But  I  can  think  of  the  other,  Jasper;  and  it  will  add 
a  deeper  value  to  your  gift.  You  remember  the  incident, 
do  you  not,  Peter  ? — how  when  the  French  were  invad- 
ing Prussia,  and  for  lack  of  means  the  country  was  unable 
to  defend  itself  against  the  enemy,  the  women  turned 
the  scale  by  pouring  their  plate  and  jewels  into  the  public 
treasury." 

"Aha!"  thought  mynheer,  as  he  met  his  vrouw's  kin- 
dling glance.  "The  proud  light  is  there  now,  in  earnest." 

Peter  remarked  mischievously  that  the  women  had 
still  proved  true  to  their  vanity  on  that  occasion;  for 
jewelry  they  would  have.  If  gold  or  silver  were  wanted 
by  the  kingdom,  they  would  relinquish  it,  and  use  iron; 
but  they  could  not  do  without  their  ornaments. 

"What  of  that?"  said  the  vrouw,  kindling  again.  "It 
is  no  sin  to  love  beautiful  things,  if  you  adapt  your  ma- 
terial to  circumstances.  All  /  have  to  say  is,  the  women 
saved  their  country,  and,  indirectly,  introduced  a  very 
important  branch  of  manufacture.  Is  not  that  so. 
Jasper?" 

"Of  course  it  is,  sweetheart,"  said  mynheer;  "but 
Peter  needs  no  word  of  mine  to  convince  him,  that,  all 
the  world  over,  women  have  never  been  found  wanting 
in  their  country's  hour  of  trial,  though"  (bowing  to 
mevrouzu)  "his  own  countrywomen  stand  foremost  in 
the  records  of  female  patriotism  and  devotion." 

Then,  turning  to  Ben,  the  host  talked  with  him  in 


MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS    217 

English  of  the  fine  old  Belgian  city.  Among  other  things, 
he  told  the  origin  of  its  name.  Ben  had  been  taught  that 
Antwerp  was  derived  from  aent  werf  (on  the  wharf); 
but  Mynheer  van  Gend  gave  him  a  far  more  interesting 
derivation. 

It  appears  that  about  three  thousand  years  ago  a  great 
giant,  named  Antigonus,  lived  on  the  river  Scheld,  on 
the  site  of  the  present  city  of  Antwerp.  This  giant 
claimed  half  the  merchandise  of  all  navigators  who 
passed  his  castle.  Of  course  some  were  inclined  to 
oppose  this  simple  regulation.  In  such  cases  Antigonus, 
by  way  of  teaching  them  to  practise  better  manners  next 
time,  cut  off,  and  threw  into  the  river,  the  right  hands  of 
the  merchants.  Thus  hand-werpen  (or  hand-throwing), 
changed  to  Antwerp,  came  to  be  the  name  of  the  place. 
The  escutcheon,  or  arms,  of  the  city  has  two  hands  upon 
it:  what  better  proof  than  this  could  one  have  of  the 
truth  of  the  story,  especially  when  one  wishes  to  be- 
lieve it  ? 

The  giant  was  finally  conquered,  and  thrown  into  the 
Scheld  by  a  hero  called  Brabo,  who,  in  turn,  gave  a  name 
to  the  district  known  as  Brabant.  Since  then  the  Dutch 
merchants  have  travelled  the  river  in  peace;  but  I,  for 
one,  thank  old  Antigonus  for  giving  the  city  so  romantic 
an  origin. 

When  Mynheer  van  Gend  had  related  in  two  languages 
this  story  of  Antwerp,  he  was  tempted  to  tell  other 
legends,  some  in  English,  some  in  Dutch;  and  so  the 


218  HANS  BRINKER 

moments,  borne  upon  the  swift  shoulders  of  gnomes 
and  giants,  glided  rapidly  away  toward  bedtime. 

It  was  hard  to  break  up  so  pleasant  a  party;  but  the 
Van  Gend  household  moved  with  the  regularity  of  clock- 
work. There  was  no  lingering  at  the  threshold  when  the 
cordial  "Good-night!"  was  spoken.  Even  while  our 
boys  were  mounting  the  stairs,  the  invisible  household 
fairies  again  clustered  around  them,  whispering  that 
system  and  regularity  had  been  chief  builders  of  the 
master's  prosperity. 

Beautiful  chambers  with  three  beds  in  them  were  not 
to  be  found  in  this  mansion.  Some  of  the  rooms  con- 
tained two;  but  each  visitor  slept  alone.  Before  morning 
the  motto  of  the  party  evidently  was,  "Every  boy  his 
own  chrysalis;"  and  Peter,  at  least,  was  not  sorry  to 
have  it  so. 

Tired  as  he  was,  Ben,  after  noting  a  curious  bell-rope 
in  the  corner,  began  to  examine  his  bed-clothes.  Each 
article  filled  him  with  astonishment, — the  exquisitely 
fine  pillow-spread  trimmed  with  costly  lace,  and  em- 
broidered with  a  gorgeous  crest  and  initial;  the  dekbed 
cover  (a  great  silk  bag,  large  as  the  bed,  stuffed  with 
swan's  down);  and  the  pink  satin  quilts,  embroidered 
with  garlands  of  flowers.  He  could  scarcely  sleep  for 
thinking  what  a  queer  little  bed  it  was;  so  comfortable 
and  pretty,  too,  with  all  its  queerness.  In  the  morning 
he  examined  the  top  coverlet  with  care;  for  he  wished 
to  send  home  a  description  of  it  in  his  next  letter.  It 
was  a  Japanese  spread,  marvellous  in  texture,  as  well  as 


MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS    219 

in  its  variety  of  brilliant  coloring,  and  worth,  as  Ben 
afterward  learned,  not  less  than  three  hundred  dollars. 

The  floor  was  of  polished  wooden  mosaic,  nearly 
covered  with  a  rich  carpet,  bordered  with  thick  black 
fringe.  Another  room  displayed  a  margin  of  satin-wood 
around  the  carpet.  Hung  with  tapestry,  its  walls  of 
crimson  silk  were  topped  with  a  gilded  cornice,  which 
shot  down  gleams  of  light  far  into  the  polished  floor. 

Over  the  doorway  of  the  room  in  which  Jacob  and 
Ben  slept  was  a  bronze  stork,  who,  with  outstretched 
neck,  held  a  lamp  to  light  the  guests  into  the  apartment. 
Between  the  two  narrow  beds  of  carved  white-wood  and 
ebony  stood  the  household  treasure  of  the  Van  Gends, — 
a  massive  oaken  chair,  upon  which  the  Prince  of  Orange 
had  once  sat  during  a  council-meeting.  Opposite  stood 
a  quaintly  carved  clothes-press,  waxed  and  polished  to 
the  utmost,  and  filled  with  precious  stores  of  linen;  beside 
it  a  table  holding  a  large  Bible,  whose  great  golden  clasps 
looked  poor  compared  with  its  solid,  ribbed  binding, 
made  to  outlast  six  generations. 

There  was  a  ship-model  on  the  mantel-shelf;  and  over 
it  hung  an  old  portrait  of  Peter  the  Great,  who,  you 
know,  once  gave  the  dockyard  cats  of  Holland  a  fine 
chance  to  look  at  a  king,  which  is  one  of  the  special  pre- 
rogatives of  cats.  Peter,  though  Czar  of  Russia,  was 
not  too  proud  to  work  as  a  common  shipwright  in  the 
dockyards  of  Zaandam  and  Amsterdam,  that  he  might 
be  able  to  introduce  among  his  countrymen  Dutch  im- 
provements in  shipbuilding.  It  was  this  willingness  to 


220  HANS  BRINKER 

be  thorough,  in  even  the  smallest  beginnings,  that  earned 
for  him  the  title  of  Peter  the  Great. 

Peter  the  little  (comparatively  speaking)  was  up  first 
the  next  morning.  Knowing  the  punctual  habits  of  his 
brother-in-law,  he  took  good  care  that  none  of  the  boys 
should  oversleep  themselves.  A  hard  task  he  found  it 
to  wake  Jacob  Poot;  but  after  pulling  that  young  gentle- 
man out  of  bed,  and,  with  Ben's  help,  dragging  him  about 
the  room  for  a  while,  he  succeeded  in  arousing  him. 

While  Jacob  was  dressing,  and  moaning  within  him 
because  the  felt  slippers  provided  him  as  a  guest  were 
too  tight  for  his  swollen  feet,  Peter  wrote  to  inform  their 
friends  at  Broek  of  the  safe  arrival  of  his  party  at  the 
Hague.  He  also  begged  his  mother  to  send  word  to  Hans 
Brinker  that  Dr.  Boekman  had  not  yet  reached  Leyden, 
but  that  a  letter  containing  Hans'  message  had  been 
left  at  the  hotel  where  the  doctor  always  lodged  during 
his  visits  to  the  city.  "Tell  him,  also,"  wrote  Peter, 
"that  I  shall  call  there  again  as  I  pass  through  Leyden. 
The  poor  boy  seemed  to  feel  sure  that  the  meester  would 
hasten  to  save  his  father;  but  we,  who  know  the  gruff 
old  gentleman  better,  may  be  confident  he  will  do  no 
such  thing.  It  would  be  a  kindness  to  send  a  visiting 
physician  from  Amsterdam  to  the  cottage  at  once,  if 
Jufvrouw1  Brinker  will  consent  to  receive  any  but  the 
great  king  of  the  meesters,  as  Dr.  Boekman  certainly  is. 

1  In  Holland,  women  of  the  lower  grades  of  society  do  not  take  the  title  of 
Mrs.  (or  mevrouw)  when  they  marry,  as  with  us.  They  assume  their  husband's 
name,  but  are  still  called  Miss  (jufvrouw,  pronounced  yuffrow). 


MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS    221 

"You  know,  mother,"  added  Peter,  "that  I  have 
always  considered  Sister  Van  Gend's  house  as  rather 
quiet  and  lonely;  but  I  assure  you  it  is  not  so  now. 
Sister  says  our  presence  has  warmed  it  for  the  whole 
winter.  Brother  Van  Gend  is  very  kind  to  us  all.  He 
says  we  make  him  wish  that  he  had  a  houseful  of  boys 
of  his  own.  He  has  promised  to  let  us  ride  on  his  noble 
black  horses.  They  are  gentle  as  kittens,  he  says,  if 
one  have  but  a  firm  touch  at  the  rein.  Ben,  according 
to  Jacob's  account,  is  a  glorious  rider;  and  your  son 
Peter  is  not  a  very  bad  hand  at  the  business:  so  we  two 
are  to  go  out  together  this  morning,  mounted  like  knights 
of  old.  After  we  return,  Brother  Van  Gend  says  he  will 
lend  Jacob  his  English  pony,  and  obtain  three  extra 
horses;  and  all  of  the  party  are  to  trot  about  the  city 
in  a  grand  cavalcade,  led  on  by  him.  He  will  ride  the 
black  horse  which  father  sent  him  from  Friesland.  My 
sister's  pretty  roan,  with  the  long  white  tail,  is  lame; 
and  she  will  ride  none  other,  else  she  would  accompany 
us.  I  could  scarce  close  my  eyes  last  night,  after  sister 
told  me  of  the  plan.  Only  the  thought  of  poor  Hans 
Brinker  and  his  sick  father  checked  me:  but  for  that,  I 
could  have  sung  for  joy.  Ludwig  has  given  us  a  name 
already, — the  Black  Cavalry.  We  flatter  ourselves  that 
we  shall  make  an  imposing  appearance,  especially  in 
single  file." 

The  Black  Cavalry  were  not  disappointed.  Mynheer 
van  Gend  readily  procured  good  horses;  and  all  the  boys 


222  HANS  BRINKER 

could  ride,  though  none  were  as  perfect  horsemen  (or 
horseboys)  as  Peter  and  Ben.  They  saw  the  Hague  to 
their  hearts'  content;  and  the  Hague  saw  them,  expres- 
sing its  approbation  loudly,  through  the  mouths  of  small 
boys  and  cart-dogs;  silently,  through  bright  eyes,  that, 
not  looking  very  deeply  into  things,  shone  as  they  looked 
at  the  handsome  Carl,  and  twinkled  with  fun  as  a  cer- 
tain portly  youth  with  shaking  cheeks  rode  past,  "bum- 
petty,  bumpetty,  bump!" 

On  their  return,  the  boys  pronounced  the  great  porce- 
lain stove  in  the  family  sitting-room  a  decidedly  useful 
piece  of  furniture;  for  they  could  gather  round  it,  and 
get  warm,  without  burning  their  noses,  or  bringing  on 
chilblains.  It  was  so  very  large,  that,  though  hot  no- 
where, it  seemed  to  send  out  warmth  by  the  houseful. 
Its  pure  white  sides  and  polished  brass  rings  made  it  a 
pretty  object  to  look  upon,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  our  ungrateful  Ben,  while  growing  thoroughly  warm 
and  comfortable  beside  it,  concocted  a  satirical  sentence 
for  his  next  letter,  to  the  effect  that  a  stove  in  Holland 
must,  of  course,  resemble  a  great  tower  of  snow,  or  it 
wouldn't  be  in  keeping  with  the  oddity  of  the  country. 

To  describe  all  the  boys  saw  and  did  on  that  day  and 
the  next  would  render  this  little  book  a  formidable  volume 
indeed.  They  visited  the  brass-cannon  foundry,  saw  the 
liquid  fire  poured  into  moulds,  and  watched  the  smiths, 
who,  half  naked,  stood  in  the  shadow,  like  demons  play- 
ing with  flame.  They  admired  the  grand  public  build- 


MERCHANT  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS    223 

ings  and  massive  private  houses,  the  elegant  streets  and 
noble  Bosch, — pride  of  all  beauty-loving  Hollanders. 
The  palace,  with  its  brilliant  mosaic  floors,  its  frescoed 
ceilings  and  gorgeous  ornament,  filled  Ben  with  delight. 
He  was  surprised  that  some  of  the  churches  were  so  very 
plain, — elaborate  sometimes  in  external  architecture,  but 
bare  and  bleak  within,  with  their  blank,  whitewashed 
walls. 

If  there  were  no  printed  record,  the  churches  of  Hol- 
land would  almost  tell  her  story.  I  will  not  enter  into 
the  subject  here,  except  to  say  that  Ben,  who  had  read 
of  her  struggles  and  wrongs,  and  of  the  terrible  retribu- 
tion she  from  time  to  time  dealt  forth,  could  scarcely 
tread  a  Holland  town  without  mentally  leaping,  horror- 
stricken,  over  the  bloody  stepping-stones  of  its  history. 
He  could  not  forget  Philip  of  Spain,  nor  the  Duke  of 
Alva,  even  while  rejoicing  in  the  prosperity  that  followed 
the  Liberation.  He  looked  in  the  meekest  of  Dutch  eyes 
for  something  of  the  fire  that  once  lit  the  haggard  faces 
of  those  desperate,  lawless  men,  who,  wearing  with  pride 
the  title  of  "beggars,"  which  their  oppressors  had  mock- 
ingly cast  upon  them,  became  the  terror  of  land  and  sea. 
In  Haarlem  he  had  wondered  that  the  air  did  not  still 
resound  with  the  cries  of  Alva's  three  thousand  victims. 
In  Leyden  his  heart  had  swelled  in  sympathy  as  he 
thought  of  the  long  procession  of  scarred  and  famished 
creatures,  who,  after  the  siege,  with  Adrian  van  der 
Werf  at  their  head,  tottered  to  the  great  church  to  sing 


224  HANS  BRINKER 

a  glorious  anthem  because  Leyden  was  free.  He  re- 
membered that  this  was  even  before  they  had  tasted 
the  bread  brought  by  the  Dutch  ships.  They  would 
praise  God  first,  then  eat.  Thousands  of  trembling 
voices  were  raised  in  glad  thanksgiving.  For  a  moment 
it  swelled  higher  and  higher,  then  suddenly  changed  to 
sobbing:  not  one  of  all  the  multitude  could  sing  another 
note.  But  who  shall  say  that  the  anthem,  even  to  its 
very  end,  was  not  heard  in  heaven  ? 

Here,  in  the  Hague,  other  thoughts  came  to  Ben,— 
of  how  Holland,  in  later  years,  unwillingly  put  her  head 
under  the  French  yoke,  and  how,  galled  and  lashed  past 
endurance,  she  had  resolutely  jerked  it  out  again.  He 
liked  her  for  that.  What  nation  of  any  spirit,  thought 
he,  could  be  expected  to  stand  such  work, — paying  all 
her  wealth  into  a  foreign  treasury,  and  yielding  up  the 
flower  of  her  youth  under  foreign  conscription  ?  It  was 
not  so  very  long  ago,  either,  since  English  guns  had  been 
heard  booming  close  by  in  the  German  Ocean.  Well, 
all  the  fighting  was  over  at  last !  Holland  was  a  snug 
little  monarchy  now,  in  her  own  right;  and  Ben,  for  one, 
was  glad  of  it.  Arrived  at  this  charitable  conclusion,  he 
was  prepared  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost  all  the  wonders  of 
her  capital.  He  quite  delighted  Mynheer  van  Gend 
with  his  hearty  and  intelligent  interest:  so,  in  fact,  did 
all  the  boys;  for  a  merrier,  more  observant  party  never 
went  sight-seeing. 


XXVIII 

THROUGH   THE    HAGUE 

THE  picture-gallery  in  the  Maurits  Huis,1  one  of  the 
finest  in  the  world,  seemed  only  to  have  flashed  by  the 
boys  during  a  two  hours'  visit,  so  much  was  there  to 
admire  and  examine.  As  for  the  royal  cabinet  of  curiosi- 
ties, in  the  same  building,  they  felt  that  they  had  but 
glanced  at  it,  though  they  were  there  nearly  half  a  day. 
It  seemed  to  them  that  Japan  had  poured  all  her  treasures 
within  its  walls.  For  a  long  period  Holland,  always  fore- 
most in  commerce,  was  the  only  nation  allowed  to  have 
any  intercourse  with  Japan.  One  can  well  forego  a 
journey  to  that  country,  if  one  can  but  visit  the  museum 
at  the  Hague. 

Room  after  room  is  filled  with  collections  from  the 
Hermit  Empire, — costumes  peculiar  to  various  ranks 
and  pursuits,  articles  of  ornament,  household  utensils, 
weapons,  armor  and  surgical  instruments.  There  is  also 
an  ingenious  Japanese  model  of  the  Island  of  Desina, 

XA  building  erected  by  Prince  Maurice  of  Nassau. 
225 


226  HANS  BRINKER 

the  Dutch  factory  in  Japan.  It  appears -almost  as  the 
island  itself  would  if  seen  through  a  reversed  opera-glass, 
and  makes  one  feel  like  a  Gulliver  coming  unexpectedly 
upon  a  Japanese  Lilliput.  There  you  see  hundreds  of 
people  in  native  costumes,  standing,  kneeling,  stooping, 
reaching, — all  at  work,  or  pretending  to  be, — and  their 
dwellings,  even  their  very  furniture,  spread  out  before 
you,  plain  as  day.  In  another  room  a  huge  tortoise- 
shell  baby-house,  fitted  up  in  Dutch  style,  and  inhabited 
by  dignified  Dutch  dolls,  stands  ready  to  tell  you  at  a 
glance  how  people  live  in  Holland. 

Gretel,  Hilda,  Katrinka,  even  the  proud  Rychie  Korbes, 
would  have  been  delighted  with  this;  but  Peter  and  his 
gallant  band  passed  it  by  without  a  glance.  The  war- 
implements  had  the  honor  of  detaining  them  for  an  hour; 
such  clubs,  such  murderous  krisses,  or  daggers,  such  fire- 
arms, and,  above  all,  such  wonderful  Japanese  swords, 
quite  capable  of  performing  the  accredited  Japanese  feat 
of  cutting  a  man  in  two  at  a  single  stroke ! 

There  were  Chinese  and  other  Oriental  curiosities  in 
the  collection.  Native  historical  relics,  too,  upon  which 
our  young  Dutchmen  gazed  very  soberly,  though  they 
were  secretly  proud  to  show  them  to  Ben. 

There  was  a  model  of  the  cabin  at  Zaandam,  in  which 
Peter  the  Great  lived  during  his  short  career  as  a  ship- 
builder; also  wallets  and  bowls  once  carried  by  the 
"beggar"  Confederates,  who,  uniting  under  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  had  freed  Holland  from  the  tyranny  of  Spain; 


THROUGH  THE  HAGUE  227 

the  sword  of  Admiral  van  Speyk,  who,  about  ten  years 
before,  had  perished  in  voluntarily  blowing  up  his  own 
ship;  and  Van  Tromp's  armor,  with  the  marks  of  bullets 
upon  it.  Jacob  looked  around,  hoping  to  see  the  broom 
which  the  plucky  admiral  fastened  to  his  masthead; 
but  it  was  not  there.  The  waistcoat  which  William 
Third  1  of  England  wore  during  the  last  days  of  his  life 
possessed  great  interest  for  Ben;  and  one  and  all  gazed 
with  a  mixture  of  reverence  and  horror-worship  at  the 
identical  clothing  worn  by  William  the  Silent1  when 
he  was  murdered  at  Delft  by  Balthazar  Geraerts.  A 
tawny  leather  doublet,  and  plain  surcoat  of  gray  cloth, 
a  soft  felt  hat,  and  a  high  neck-ruff,  from  which  hung 
one  of  the  "Beggars'"  medals, — these  were  not  in  them- 
selves very  princely  objects,  though  the  doublet  had  a 
tragic  interest  from  its  dark  stains  and  bullet-holes. 
Ben  could  readily  believe,  as  he  looked  upon  the  gar- 
ments, that  the  Silent  Prince,  true  to  his  greatness  of 
character,  had  been  exceedingly  simple  in  his  attire.  His 
aristocratic  prejudices  were,  however,  decidedly  shocked 
when  Lambert  told  him  of  the  way  in  which  William's 
bride  first  entered  the  Hague 

"The  beautiful  Louisa  de  Coligny,  whose  father  and 
former  husband  both  had  fallen  at  the  Massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  was  coming  to  be  fourth  wife  to  the  prince; 
and  of  course,"  said  Lambert,  "we  Hollanders  were  too 

1  William,  Prince  of  Orange,  who  became  King  of  England,  was  a  great- 
grandson  of  William  the  Silent,  Prince  of  Orange,  who  was  murdered  by  Ge- 
raerts (or  Gerard),  July  10,  1584. 


228  HANS   BRINKER 

gallant  to  allow  the  lady  to  enter  the  town  on  foot.  No, 
sir !  We  sent  (or  rather  my  ancestors  did)  a  clean,  open 
post-wagon  to  meet  her  with  a  plank  across  it  for  her  to 
sit  upon." 

"Very  gallant,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Ben,  with  almost 
a  sneer  in  his  polite  laugh, — "and  she  the  daughter  of 
an  admiral  of  France." 

"Was  she  ?  Upon  my  word,  I  had  nearly  forgotten 
that.  But,  you  see,  Holland  had  very  plain  ways  in  the 
good  old  time;  in  fact,  we  are  a  very  simple,  frugal  people 
to  this  day.  The  Van  Gend  establishment  is  a  decided 
exception,  you  know." 

"A  very  agreeable  exception,  I  think,"  said  Ben. 

"Certainly,  certainly.  But,  between  you  and  me, 
Mynheer  van  Gend,  though  he  has  wrought  his  own 
fortunes,  can  afford  to  be  magnificent,  and  yet  be  frugal." 

"Exactly  so,"  said  Ben,  profoundly,  at  the  same  time 
stroking  his  upper  lip  and  chin,  which  latterly,  he  be- 
lieved, had  been  showing  delightful  and  unmistakable 
signs  of  coming  dignities. 

While  tramping  on  foot  through  the  city,  Ben  often 
longed  for  a  good  English  sidewalk.  Here,  as  in  the  other 
towns,  there  was  no  curb,  no  raised  pavement  for  foot- 
travellers;  but  the  streets  were  clean  and  even,  and  all 
vehicles  were  kept  scrupulously  within  a  certain  tract. 
Strange  to  say,  there  were  nearly  as  many  sleds  as  wagons 
to  be  seen,  though  there  was  not  a  particle  of  snow. 
The  sleds  went  scraping  over  the  bricks  or  cobble-stones; 


THROUGH  THE  HAGUE  229 

some  provided  with  an  apparatus  in  front  for  sprinkling 
water,  to  diminish  the  friction,  and  some  rendered  less 
musical  by  means  of  a  dripping  oil  rag,  which  the  driver 
occasionally  applied  to  the  runners. 

Ben  was  surprised  at  the  noiseless  way  in  which  Dutch 
laborers  do  their  work.  Even  around  the  warehouses 
and  docks,  there  was  no  bustle,  no  shouting  from  one 
to  another.  A  certain  twitch  of  the  pipe,  or  turn  of  the 
head,  or  at  most  a  raising  of  the  hand,  seemed  to  be  all 
the  signal  necessary.  Entire  loads  of  cheeses  or  herrings 
are  pitched  from  cart  or  canal-boat  into  the  warehouses 
without  a  word:  but  the  passer-by  must  take  his  chance 
of  being  pelted;  for  a  Dutchman  seldom  looks  before  or 
behind  him  while  engaged  at  work. 

Poor  Jacob  Poot,  who  seemed  destined  to  bear  all  the 
mishaps  of  the  journey,  was  knocked  nearly  breathless 
by  a  great  cheese  which  a  fat  Dutchman  was  throwing 
to  a  fellow-laborer;  but  he  recovered  himself,  and  passed 
on  without  evincing  the  least  indignation. 

Ben  professed  great  sympathy  on  the  occasion;  but 
Jacob  insisted  that  it  was  "netting." 

"Then  why  did  you  screw  your  face  so  when  it  hit 
you?" 

"What  for  screw  mine  face?"  repeated  Jacob,  soberly. 
"Vy,  it  vash  de— de— " 

"The  what  ?"  insisted  Ben,  maliciously. 

"Vy,  de — de — vat  you  call  dis  vat  you  taste  mit  de 
nose  ?" 


23o  HANS  BRINKER 

Ben  laughed. 

"Oh !  you  mean  the  smell." 

"Yesh.  Dat  ish  it,"  said  Jacob,  eagerly.  "It  wash 
de  shmell.  I  draw  mine  face  for  dat." 

"Ha,  ha!"  roared  Ben,  "that's  a  good  one.  A  Dutch 
boy  smell  a  cheese!  You  can  never  make  me  believe 
that." 

"Veil,  it  ish  no  matter,"  replied  Jacob,  trudging  on 
beside  Ben  in  perfect  good-humor:  "vait  till  you  hit 
mit  cheese,  dat  ish  all." 

Soon  he  added  pathetically,  "Penchamin,  I  no  likes 
be  call  Tutch:  dat  ish  no  goot.  I  bees  a  Hollander." 

Just  as  Ben  was  apologizing,  Lambert  hailed  him. 

"Hold  up,  Ben.  Here  is  the  fish-market.  There  is 
not  much  to  be  seen  at  this  season.  But  we  can  take  a 
look  at  the  storks,  if  you  wish." 

Ben  knew  that  storks  were  held  in  peculiar  reverence 
in  Holland,  and  that  the  bird  figured  upon  the  arms  of 
the  capital.  He  had  noticed  cart-wheels  placed  upon 
the  roofs  of  Dutch  cottages  to  entice  storks  to  settle 
upon  them:  he  had  seen  their  huge  nests,  too,  on  many  a 
thatched  gable-roof  from  Broek  to  the  Hague.  But  it 
was  winter  now.  The  nests  were  empty.  No  greedy 
birdlings  opened  their  mouths,  or  rather  their  heads,  at 
the  approach  of  a  great  white  winged  thing,  with  out- 
stretched neck  and  legs,  bearing  a  dangling  something 
for  their  breakfast.  The  long-bills  were  far  away,  pick- 
ing up  food  on  African  shores;  and,  before  they  would 


THROUGH  THE  HAGUE  231 

return  in  the  spring,  Ben's  visit  to  the  land  of  dikes 
would  be  over. 

Therefore  he  pressed  eagerly  forward  as  Van  Mounen 
led  the  way  through  the  fish-market,  anxious  to  see  if 
storks  in  Holland  were  anything  like  the  melancholy 
specimens  he  had  seen  in  the  Zoological  Gardens  of 
London. 

It  was  the  same  old  story.  A  tamed  bird  is  a  sad 
bird,  say  what  you  will.  These  storks  lived  in  a  sort  of 
kennel,  chained  by  the  feet,  like  felons,  though  supposed 
to  be  honored  by  being  kept  at  the  public  expense.  In 
summer  they  were  allowed  to  walk  about  the  market, 
where  the  fish-stalls  were  like  so  many  free  dining-saloons 
to  them.  Untasted  delicacies,  in  the  form  of  raw  fish 
and  butcher's  offals,  lay  about  their  kennels  now;  but 
the  city-guests  preferred  to  stand  upon  one  leg,  curving 
back  their  long  neck,  and  leaning  their  head  sidewise, 
in  a  blinking  revery.  How  gladly  they  would  have 
changed  their  petted  state  for  the  busy  life  of  some  hard- 
working stork  mother  or  father,  bringing  up  a  trouble- 
some family  on  the  roof  of  a  rickety  old  building,  where 
flapping  windmills  frightened  them  half  to  death  every 
time  they  ventured  forth  on  a  frolic ! 

Ben  soon  made  up  his  mind,  and  rightly  too,  that  the 
Hague  with  its  fine  streets  and  public  parks,  shaded  with 
elms,  was  a  magnificent  city.  The  prevailing  costume 
was  like  that  of  London  or  Paris;  and  his  British  ears 
were  many  a  time  cheered  by  the  music  of  British  words. 


232  HANS  BRINKER 

The  shops  were  different  in  many  respects  from  those 
on  Oxford  Street  and  the  Strand;  but  they  often  were 
illumined  by  a  printed  announcement  that  English  was 
"spoken  within."  Others  proclaimed  themselves  to 
have  London  Stout  for  sale,  and  one  actually  claimed  to 
be  able  to  regale  its  customers  with  English  roast  beef. 

Over  every  possible  shop-door  was  the  never-failing 
placard,  Tabak  de  Koop  ("tobacco  to  be  sold").  Instead 
of  colored  glass  globes  in  the  windows,  or  high  jars  of 
leeches,  the  drug  stores  had  a  gaping  Turk's  head  at 
the  entrance;  or,  if  the  establishment  were  particularly 
fine,  a  wooden  mandarin  entire,  indulging  in  a  full  yawn. 

Some  of  these  queer  faces  amused  Ben  exceedingly: 
they  seemed  to  have  just  swallowed  a  dose  of  physic; 
but  Van  Mounen  declared  he  could  not  see  anything 
funny  about  them.  A  druggist  showed  his  sense  by 
putting  a  Gaper  before  his  door,  so  that  his  place  could 
be  known  at  once  as  an  apotheek;  and  that  was  all  there 
was  about  it. 

Another  thing  attracted  Ben, — the  milkmen's  carts. 
These  were  small  affairs,  filled  with  shiny  brass  kettles, 
or  stone  jars,  and  drawn  by  dogs.  The  milkman  walked 
meekly  beside  his  cart,  keeping  his  dog  in  order,  and 
delivering  the  milk  to  customers.  Certain  fish-dealers 
had  dog-carts  also;  and,  when  a  herring-dog  chanced 
to  meet  a  milk-dog,  he  invariably  put  on  airs  and  growled 
as  he  passed  him.  Even  the  dogs  of  the  huckster-women, 
lean  and  hard-worked  enough,  poor  things,  had  sufficient 


THROUGH  THE  HAGUE  233 

spirit  to  champ  and  snarl  while  their  mistresses  were 
squabbling.  Sometimes  a  milk-dog  would  recognize  an 
acquaintance  before  another  milk-cart  across  the  street; 
and  then  how  the  kettles  would  rattle,  especially  if  they 
were  empty !  Each  dog  would  give  a  bound,  and,  never 
caring  for  his  master's  whistle,  insist  upon  meeting  the 
other  half  way.  Sometimes  they  contented  themselves 
with  an  inquisitive  sniff;  but  generally  the  smaller  dog 
made  an  affectionate  snap  at  the  larger  one's  ear,  or  a 
friendly  tussle  was  engaged  in  by  way  of  exercise.  Then 
woe  to  the  milk-kettles,  and  woe  to  the  dogs ! 

The  whipping  over,  each  dog,  expressing  his  feelings 
as  best  he  could,  would  trot  demurely  back  to  his  work. 

If  some  of  these  animals  were  eccentric  in  their  ways, 
others  were  remarkably  well  behaved.  In  fact,  there 
was  a  school  for  dogs  in  the  city,  established  expressly 
for  training  them:  Ben  probably  saw  some  of  its  grad- 
uates. Many  a  time  he  noticed  a  span  of  barkers  trot- 
ting along  the  street,  with  all  the  dignity  of  horses, 
obeying  the  slightest  hint  of  the  man  walking  briskly 
beside  them.  Sometimes,  when  their  load  was  delivered, 
the  dealer  would  jump  in  the  cart,  and  have  a  fine  drive 
to  his  home  beyond  the  gates  of  the  city;  and  sometimes, 
I  regret  to  say,  a  patient  vrouw  would  trudge  beside  the 
cart,  with  fish-basket  upon  her  head,  and  a  child  in  her 
arms,  while  her  lord  enjoyed  his  drive,  carrying  no  heavier 
burden  than  a  stumpy  clay  pipe,  the  smoke  of  which 
mounted  shyly  into  her  face. 


XXIX 

A   DAY   OF   REST 

THE  sight-seeing  came  to  an  end  at  last;  and  so  did 
our  boys'  visit  to  the  Hague.  They  had  spent  three 
happy  days  and  nights  with  the  Van  Gends,  and,  strange 
to  say,  had  not  once,  in  all  that  time,  put  on  skates. 
The  third  day  had  indeed  been  one  of  rest.  The  noise 
and  bustle  of  the  city  was  hushed:  sweet  Sunday  bells 
sent  blessed,  tranquil  thoughts  into  their  hearts.  Ben 
felt,  as  he  listened  to  their  familiar  music,  that  the  Chris- 
tian world  is  one,  after  all,  however  divided  by  sects  and 
differences  it  may  be.  As  the  clock  speaks  every  one's 
native  language,  in  whatever  land  it  may  strike  the  hour, 
so  church-bells  are  never  foreign,  if  our  hearts  but  listen. 

Led  on  by  those  clear  voices,  our  party,  with  Me- 
vrouw  van  Gend  and  her  husband,  trod  the  quiet  but 
crowded  streets,  until  they  came  to  a  fine  old  church  in 
the  southern  part  of  the  city. 

The  interior  was  large,  and,  notwithstanding  its  great 
stained  windows,  seemed  dimly  lighted,  though  the  walls 

234 


A  DAY  OF  REST  235 

were  white,  and  dashes  of  red  and  purple  sunshine  lay 
brightly  upon  pillar  and  pew. 

Ben  saw  a  few  old  women  moving  softly  through  the 
aisles,  each  bearing  a  high  pile  of  foot-stoves,  which  she 
distributed  among  the  congregation,  by  skilfully  slip- 
ping out  the  under  one,  until  none  were  left.  It  puzzled 
him  that  mynheer  should  settle  himself  with  the  boys  in 
a  comfortable  side-pew,  after  seating  his  vrouw  in  the 
body  of  the  church,  which  was  filled  with  chairs  exclu- 
sively appropriated  to  the  women.  But  Ben  was  learning 
only  a  common  custom  of  the  country. 

The  pews  of  the  nobility  and  the  dignitaries  of  the 
city  were  circular  in  form,  each  surrounding  a  column. 
Elaborately  carved,  they  formed  a  massive  base  to  their 
great  pillars,  standing  out  in  bold  relief  against  the 
blank  white  walls  beyond.  These  columns,  lofty  and 
well  proportioned,  were  nicked  and  defaced  from  vio- 
lence done  to  them  long  ago;  yet  it  seemed  quite  fitting, 
that,  before  they  were  lost  in  the  deep  arches  overhead, 
their  softened  outlines  should  leaf  out  as  they  did  into 
richness  and  beauty. 

Soon  Ben  lowered  his  gaze  to  the  marble  floor.  It 
was  a  pavement  of  grave-stones.  Nearly  all  the  large 
slabs  of  which  it  was  composed  marked  the  resting- 
places  of  the  dead.  An  armorial  design  engraved  upon 
each  stone,  with  inscription  and  date,  told  whose  form 
was  sleeping  beneath;  and  sometimes  three  of  a  family 
were  lying  one  above  the  other  in  the  same  sepulchre. 


236  HANS   BRINKER 

He  could  not  but  think  of  the  solemn  funeral  proces- 
sion, winding  by  torchlight  through  those  lofty  aisles, 
and  bearing  its  silent  burden  toward  a  dark  opening 
whence  a  slab  had  been  lifted,  in  readiness  for  its  coming. 
It  was  something  to  feel  that  his  sister  Mabel,  who  died 
in  her  flower,  was  lying  in  a  sunny  churchyard,  where 
a  brook  rippled  and  sparkled  in  the  daylight,  and  waving 
trees  whispered  together  all  night  long;  where  flowers 
might  nestle  close  to  the  headstone,  and  moon  and  stars 
shed  their  peace  upon  it,  and  morning  birds  sing  sweetly 
overhead. 

Then  he  looked  up  from  the  pavement,  and  rested 
his  eyes  upon  the  carved  oaken  pulpit,  exquisitely  beau- 
tiful in  design  and  workmanship.  He  could  not  see 
the  minister, — though,  not  long  before,  he  had  watched 
him  slowly  ascending  its  winding  stair, — a  mild-faced 
man,  wearing  a  ruff  about  his  neck,  and  a  short  cloak 
reaching  nearly  to  the  knee. 

Meantime,  the  great  church  had  been  silently  filling. 
Its  pews  were  sombre  with  men,  and  its  centre  radiant 
with  women  in  their  fresh  Sunday  attire.  Suddenly  a  soft 
rustling  spread  through  the  building.  All  eyes  were  turned 
toward  the  minister  now  appearing  above  the  pulpit. 

Although  the  sermon  was  spoken  slowly,  Ben  could 
understand  little  of  what  was  said;  but,  when  the  hymn 
came,  he  joined  in  with  all  his  heart.  A  thousand  voices 
lifted  in  love  and  praise  offered  a  grander  language,  that 
he  could  readily  comprehend. 


A  DAY  OF  REST  237 

Once  he  was  startled,  during  a  pause  in  the  service, 
by  seeing  a  little  bag  suddenly  shaken  before  him.  It 
had  a  tinkling  bell  at  its  side,  and  was  attached  to  a 
long  stick  carried  by  one  of  the  deacons  of  the  church. 
Not  relying  solely  upon  the  mute  appeal  of  the  poor- 
boxes,  fastened  to  the  column  near  the  entrance,  this 
more  direct  method  was  resorted  to,  of  awaking  the 
sympathies  of  the  charitable. 

Fortunately  Ben  had  provided  himself  with  a  few 
stivers,  or  the  musical  bag  must  have  tinkled  before 
him  in  vain. 

More  than  once  a  dark  look  rose  on  our  English  boy's 
face  that  morning.  He  longed  to  stand  up,  and  harangue 
the  people  concerning  a  peculiarity  that  filled  him  with 
pain.  Some  of  the  men  wore  their  hats  during  the  service, 
or  took  them  off  whenever  the  humor  prompted;  and 
many  put  theirs  on  in  the  church  as  soon  as  they 
arose  to  leave.  No  wonder  Ben's  sense  of  propriety  was 
wounded;  and  yet  a  higher  sense  would  have  been 
exercised,  had  he  tried  to  feel  willing  that  Hollanders 
should  follow  the  customs  of  their  country.  But  his 
English  heart  said  over  and  over  again,  "It  is  outrageous ! 
it  is  sinful !" 

There  is  an  angel  called  Charity,  who  often  would 
save  our  hearts  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  if  we  would  but 
let  her  in. 


XXX 

HOMEWARD    BOUND 

ON  Monday  morning,  bright  and  early,  our  boys  bade 
farewell  to  their  kind  entertainers,  and  started  on  their 
homeward  journey. 

Peter  lingered  a  while  at  the  lion-guarded  door;  for 
he  and  his  sister  had  many  parting  words  to  say. 

As  Ben  saw  them  bidding  each  other  "good-by,"  he 
could  not  help  feeling  that  kisses,  as  well  as  clocks,  were 
wonderfully  alike  everywhere.  The  English  kiss  that 
his  sister  Jenny  gave  when  he  left  home  had  said  the 
same  thing  to  him  that  the  vrouw  Van  Gend's  Dutch 
kiss  said  to  Peter.  Ludwig  had  taken  his  share  of  the 
farewell  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  manner  possible, 
and,  though  he  loved  his  sister  well,  had  winced  a  little 
at  her  making  such  a  child  of  him  as  to  put  an  extra 
kiss  "for  mother"  upon  his  forehead. 

He  was  already  upon  the  canal  with  Carl  and  Jacob. 
Were  they  thinking  about  sisters  or  kisses  ?  Not  a 
bit  of  it.  They  were  so  happy  to  be  on  skates  once 

more,  so  impatient  to  dart  at  once  into  the  very  heart 

238 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  239 

of  Broek,  that  they  spun  and  wheeled  about  like  crazy 
fellows,  relieving  themselves,  meantime,  by  muttering 
something  about  "Peter  and  donder"  not  worth  trans- 
lating. 

Even  Lambert  and  Ben,  who  had  been  waiting  at  the 
street-corner,  began  to  grow  impatient. 

The  captain  joined  them  at  last.  They  were  soon  on 
the  canal  with  the  rest. 

"Hurry  up,  Peter!"  growled  Ludwig.  "We're  freez- 
ing by  inches — there !  I  knew  you'd  be  the  last,  after 
all,  to  get  on  your  skates ! " 

"Did  you?"  said  his  brother,  looking  up  with  an  air 
of  deep  interest — "clever  boy!" 

Ludwig  laughed,  but  tried  to  look  cross,  as  he  said, 
"I'm  in  earnest,  anyhow.  We  must  get  home  some 
time  this  year." 

"Now,  boys !"  cried  Peter,  springing  up,  as  he  fastened 
the  last  buckle.  "There's  a  clear  way  before  us.  We  will 
imagine  it's  the  grand  race.  Ready!  One,  two,  three, 
start!" 

I  assure  you  very  little  was  said  for  the  first  half-hour. 
They  were  six  Mercuries  skimming  the  ice.  In  plain 
English,  they  went  like  lightning.  No,  that  is  imaginary 
too.  The  fact  is,  one  cannot  decide  what  to  say  when 
half  a  dozen  boys  are  whizzing  past  at  such  a  rate.  I 
can  only  tell  you  that  each  did  his  best,  flying,  with  bent 
body  and  eager  eyes,  in  and  out  among  the  placid  skaters 
on  the  canal,  until  the  very  guard  shouted  to  them  to 


240  HANS  BRINKER 

"Hold  up!"  This  only  served  to  send  them  onward 
with  a  two-boy  power  that  startled  all  beholders. 

But  the  laws  of  inertia  are  stronger  even  than  canal- 
guards. 

After  a  while,  Jacob  slackened  his  speed,  then  Lud- 
wig,  then  Lambert,  then  Carl. 

They  soon  halted  to  take  a  long  breath,  and,  finally, 
found  themselves  standing  in  a  group,  gazing  after  Peter 
and  Ben,  who  were  still  racing  in  the  distance  as  if  their 
lives  were  at  stake. 

"It  is  very  evident,"  said  Lambert,  as  he  and  his 
three  companions  started  on  again,  "that  neither  of  them 
will  give  up  if  he  can  help  it." 

"What  foolishness!"  growled  Carl,  "to  tire  them- 
selves at  the  beginning  of  the  journey.  But  they're  rac- 
ing in  earnest,  that's  certain.  Halloo !  Peter's  flag- 
ging!" 

"Not  so !"  cried  Ludwig.    "Catch  him  being  beaten  !" 

"Ha,  ha!"  sneered  Carl.  "I  tell  you,  boy,  Benjamin 
is  ahead." 

Now,  if  Ludwig  disliked  anything  in  this  world,  it 
was  to  be  called  a  boy — probably  because  he  was  nothing 
else.  He  grew  indignant  at  once. 

"Humph!  what  are  you,  I  wonder?  There,  sir!  now 
look  and  see  if  Peter  isn't  ahead !" 

"7  think  he  is"  interposed  Lambert;  "but  I  can't 
quite  tell  at  this  distance." 

"7  think  he  isn't!"  retorted  Carl. 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  241 

Jacob  was  growing  anxious.  He  always  abhorred  an 
argument;  so  he  said  coaxingly,  "Don't  quarrel,  don't 
quarrel!" 

"Don't  quarrel!"  mocked  Carl,  looking  back  at  Jacob 
as  he  skated.  "Who's  quarrelling?  Foot,  you're  a 
goose!" 

"I  can't  help  that,"  was  Jacob's  meek  reply.  "See! 
they  are  nearing  the  turn  of  the  canal." 

"Now  we  can  see !"  cried  Ludwig,  in  great  excitement. 

"Peter  will  make  it  first,  I  know." 

"He  can't;  for  Ben  is  ahead  !"  insisted  Carl.  "Gunst ! 
That  ice-boat  will  run  over  him.  No,  he  is  clear  !  They're 
a  couple  of  geese,  anyhow.  Hurrah,  they  are  at  the  turn  ! 
Now  who's  ahead  ?" 

"Peter!"  cried  Ludwig,  joyfully. 

"Good  for  the  captain!"  shouted  Lambert  and  Jacob. 

And  Carl  condescended  to  mutter, — 

"It  is  Peter,  after  all.  I  thought,  all  the  time,  that 
head  fellow  was  Ben." 

This  turn  in  the  canal  had  evidently  been  their  goal; 
for  the  two  races  came  to  a  sudden  halt  after  passing  it. 

Carl  said  something  about  being  "glad  that  they  had 
sense  enough  to  stop  and  rest;"  and  the  four  boys  skated 
on  in  silence  to  overtake  their  companions. 

All  the  while,  Carl  was  secretly  wishing  that  he  had 
kept  on  with  Peter  and  Ben,  as  he  felt  sure  he  could  easily 
have  come  out  winner.  He  was  a  very  rapid,  though  by 
no  means  a  graceful  skater. 


242  HANS  DRINKER 

Ben  was  looking  at  Peter  with  mingled  vexation,  ad- 
miration and  surprise,  as  the  boys  drew  near. 

They  heard  him  saying  in  English, — 

"You're  a  perfect  bird  on  the  ice,  Peter  van  Holp. 
The  first  fellow  that  ever  beat  me  in  a  fair  race,  I  can 
tell  you!" 

Peter,  who  understood  the  language  better  than  he 
could  speak  it,  returned  a  laughing  bow  at  Ben's  com- 
pliment, but  made  no  further  reply.  Possibly  he  was 
scant  of  breath  at  the  time. 

"Now,  Penchamin,  vat  you  do  mit  youself?  Get  so 
hot  as  a  fire-brick:  dat  ish  no  goot,"  was  Jacob's  plain- 
tive comment. 

"Nonsense!"  answered  Ben.  "This  frosty  air  will 
cool  me  soon  enough.  I  am  not  tired." 

"You  are  beaten,  though,  my  boy,"  said  Lambert, 
in  English,  "and  fairly  too.  How  will  it  be,  I  wonder, 
on  the  day  of  the  grand  race  ?" 

Ben  flushed;  and  as  he  sailed  off,  looking  back  rather 
wearily,  he  gave  a  proud,  defiant  laugh,  as  if  to  say, — 

"This  was  mere  pastime.  Fm  determined  to  beat 
then,  come  what  may." 


XXXI 

BOYS   AND   GIRLS 

BY  the  time  the  boys  reached  the  village  of  Voor- 
hout,  which  stands  near  the  grand  canal,  about  half-way 
between  the  Hague  and  Haarlem,  they  were  forced  to 
hold  a  council.  The  wind,  though  moderate  at  first,  had 
grown  stronger  and  stronger,  until  at  last  they  could 
hardly  skate  against  it.  The  weather-vanes  throughout 
the  country  had  evidently  entered  into  a  conspiracy. 

"No  use  trying  to  face  such  a  blow  as  this,"  said 
Ludwig.  "It  cuts  its  way  down  a  man's  throat  like  a 
knife." 

"Keep  your  mouth  shut,  then,"  grunted  the  affable 
Carl,  who  was  strong-chested  as  a  young  ox.  "I'm  for 
keeping  on." 

"In  this  case,"  interposed  Peter,  "we  must  consult 
the  weakest  of  the  party,  rather  than  the  strongest." 

The  captain's  principle  was  all  right;  but  its  applica- 
tion was  not  flattering  to  Master  Ludwig.  Shrugging 
his  shoulders,  he  retorted, — 

243 


244  HANS  BRINKER 

"Who's  weak  ?  Not  I,  for  one.  But  the  wind's  stronger 
than  any  of  us.  I  hope  you'll  condescend  to  admit 
that." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Van  Mounen,  who  could  barely 
keep  his  feet.  "So  it  is." 

Just  then  the  weather-vanes  telegraphed  to  each  other 
by  a  peculiar  twitch,  and  in  an  instant  the  gust  came. 
It  nearly  threw  the  strong-chested  Carl:  it  almost 
strangled  Jacob,  and  quite  upset  Ludwig. 

"This  settles  the  question,"  shouted  Peter.  "Off  with 
your  skates  !  We'll  go  into  Voorhout." 

At  Voorhout  they  found  a  little  inn  with  a  big  yard. 
The  yard  was  well  bricked,  and,  better  than  all,  was 
provided  with  a  complete  set  of  skittles:  so  our  boys 
soon  turned  the  detention  into  a  frolic.  The  wind  was 
troublesome,  even  in  that  sheltered  quarter;  but  they 
were  on  good  standing-ground,  and  did  not  mind  it. 

First  a  hearty  dinner,  then  the  game.  With  pins  as 
long  as  their  arms,  and  balls  as  big  as  their  heads,  plenty 
of  strength  left  for  rolling,  and  a  clean  sweep  of  sixty 
feet  for  the  strokes,  no  wonder  they  were  happy. 

That  night  Captain  Peter  and  his  men  slept  soundly. 
No  prowling  robber  came  to  disturb  them;  and,  as  they 
were  distributed  in  separate  rooms,  they  did  not  even 
have  a  bolster-battle  in  the  morning. 

Such  a  breakfast  as  they  ate!  The  landlord  looked 
frightened.  When  he  had  asked  them  where  they  "be- 
longed," he  made  up  his  mind  that  the  Broek  people 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  245 

starved  their  children.  It  was  a  shame,  "Such  fine 
young  gentlemen  too!" 

Fortunately  the  wind  had  tired  itself  out,  and  fallen 
asleep  in  the  great  sea-cradle  beyond  the  Dunes.  There 
were  signs  of  snow:  otherwise,  the  weather  was  fine. 

It  was  mere  child's  play  for  the  well-rested  boys  to 
skate  to  Lej'den.  Here  they  halted  a  while:  for  Peter 
had  an  errand  at  the  Golden  Eagle.  He  left  the  city 
with  a  lightened  heart.  Dr.  Boekman  had  been  at  the 
hotel,  read  the  note  containing  Hans's  message,  and 
departed  for  Broek. 

"I  cannot  say  it  was  your  letter  sent  him  off  so  soon," 
explained  the  landlord.  "Some  rich  lady  in  Broek  was 
taken  bad  very  sudden;  and  he  was  sent  for  in  haste." 

Peter  turned  pale. 

"What  was  the  name  ?"  he  asked. 

"Indeed,  it  went  in  one  ear,  and  out  of  the  other,  for 
all  I  hindered  it.  Plague  to  people  who  can't  see  a  travel- 
ler in  comfortable  lodgings,  but  they  must  whisk  him 
off  before  one  can  breathe!" 

"A  lady  in  Broek,  did  you  say?" 

"Yes,"  very  gruffly.  ."Any  other  business,  young  mas- 
ter?" 

"No,  mine  host,  except  that  I  and  my  comrades  here 
would  like  a  bite  of  something,  and  a  drink  of  hot  coffee." 

"Ah!"  said  the  landlord,  sweetly.  "A  bite  you  shall 
have,  and  coffee  too, — the  finest  in  Leyden.  Walk  up  to 
the  stove,  my  masters.  Now  I  think  again,  that  was  a 


246  HANS   BRINKER 

widow-lady  from  Rotterdam,  I  think  they  said,  visiting 
at  one  Van  Stoepel's,  if  I  mistake  not." 

"Ah!"  said  Peter,  greatly  relieved.  "They  live  in 
the  white  house  by  the  Schlossen  Mill.  Now,  mynheer, 
the  coffee,  please." 

"What  a  goose  I  was!"  thought  he,  as  the  party  left 
the  Golden  Eagle,  "to  feel  so  sure  it  was  my  mother. 
But  she  may  be  somebody's  mother,  poor  woman,  for 
all  that.  Who  can  she  be,  I  wonder?" 

There  were  not  many  upon  the  canal  that  day,  be- 
tween Leyden  and  Haarlem.  However,  as  the  boys 
neared  Amsterdam,  they  found  themselves  once  more 
in  the  midst  of  a  moving  throng.  The  big  Ysbreeker1 
had  been  at  work  for  the  first  time  that  season;  but  there 
was  any  amount  of  skating-ground  left  yet. 

"Three  cheers  for  home!"  cried  Van  Mounen,  as  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  great  Western  Dock  (Westdijk  Dok). 
"Hurrah,  hurrah!"  shouted  one  and  all.  "Hurrah, 
hurrah!" 

This  trick  of  cheering  was  an  importation  among  our 
party.  Lambert  van  Mounen  had  brought  it  from  Eng- 
land. As  they  always  gave  it  in  English,  it  was  con- 
sidered quite  an  exploit,  and,  when  circumstances  per- 
mitted, always  enthusiastically  performed,  to  the  sore 
dismay  of  their  quiet-loving  countrymen. 

1  Ice-breaker.  A  heavy  machine,  armed  with  iron  spikes,  for  breaking  the 
ice  as  it  is  dragged  along.  Some  of  the  small  ones  are  worked  by  men;  but 
the  large  ones  are  drawn  by  horses,  sixty  or  seventy  of  which  are  sometimes 
attached  to  one  Ysbreeker. 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  247 

Therefore  their  arrival  at  Amsterdam  created  a  great 
sensation,  especially  among  the  small  boys  on  the  wharves. 

The  Y  was  crossed.     They  were  on  the  Broek  Canal. 

Lambert's  home  was  reached  first. 

"Good-by,  boys!"  he  cried,  as  he  left  them.  " We've 
had  the  greatest  frolic  ever  known  in  Holland." 

"So  we  have.  Good-by,  Van  Mounen!"  answered 
the  boys. 

"Good-by!" 

Peter  hailed  him.  "I  say,  Van  Mounen,  the  classes 
begin  to-morrow!" 

"I  know  it.    Our  holiday  is  over.     Good-by,  Ben!" 

"Good-by!"  shouted  Ben,  somewhat  sadly,  for  he 
hated  to  see  the  pleasant  party  breaking  up. 

Broek  came  in  sight.  Such  meetings !  Katrinka  was 
on  the  canal.  Carl  was  delighted.  Hilda  was  there. 
Peter  felt  rested  in  an  instant.  Rychie  was  there.  Lud- 
wig  and  Jacob  nearly  knocked  each  other  over  in  their 
eagerness  to  shake  hands  with  her. 

Dutch  girls  are  modest,  and  generally  quiet;  but  they 
have  very  glad  eyes.  For  a  few  moments,  it  was  hard 
to  decide  whether  Hilda,  Rychie  or  Katrinka,  felt  the 
most  happy. 

Annie  Bouman  was  also  on  the  canal,  looking  even 
prettier  than  the  other  maidens,  in  her  graceful  peasant's 
costume.  But  she  did  not  mingle  with  Rychie's  party; 
neither  did  she  look  unusually  happy. 

The  one  she  liked  most  to  see  was  not  among  the  new- 


248  HANS   BRINKER 

comers.  Indeed,  he  was  not  upon  the  canal  at  all.  She 
had  not  been  near  Broek  before,  since  the  Eve  of  St. 
Nicholas;  for  she  was  staying  with  her  sick  grandmother 
in  Amsterdam,  and  had  been  granted  a  brief  resting-spell, 
as  the  grandmother  called  it,  because  she  had  been  such 
a  faithful  little  nurse  night  and  day. 

Annie  had  devoted  her  resting-spell  to  skating  with 
all  her  might  toward  Broek,  and  back  again,  in  the  hope 
of  meeting  her  mother,  or  some  of  her  family,  on  the 
canal;  or,  it  might  be,  Gretel  Brinker.  Not  one  of  them 
had  she  seen;  and  she  must  hurry  back  without  even 
catching  a  glimpse  of  her  mother's  cottage;  for  the  poor, 
helpless  grandmother,  she  knew,  was  by  this  time  moan- 
ing for  some  one  to  turn  her  upon  her  cot. 

"Where  can  Gretel  be?"  thought  Annie,  as  she  flew 
over  the  ice.  "She  can  almost  always  steal  a  few  mo- 
ments from  her  work  at  this  time  of  day.  Poor  Gretel ! 
What  a  dreadful  thing  it  must  be  to  have  a  dull  father ! 
I  should  be  wofully  afraid  of  him,  I  know, — so  strong, 
and  yet  so  strange!" 

Annie  had  not  heard  of  his  illness.  Dame  Brinker 
and  her  affairs  received  but  little  notice  from  the  people 
of  the  place. 

If  Gretel  had  not  been  known  as  a  goose-girl,  she 
might  have  had  more  friends  among  the  peasantry  of 
the  neighborhood.  As  it  was,  Annie  Bouman  was  the 
only  one  who  did  not  feel  ashamed  to  avow  herself  by 
word  and  deed  the  companion  of  Gretel  and  Hans. 


BOYS  AND  GIRLS  249 

When  the  neighbors'  children  laughed  at  her  for  keep- 
ing such  poor  company,  she  would  simply  flush  when 
Hans  was  ridiculed,  or  laugh  in  a  careless,  disdainful 
way.  But  to  hear  little  Gretel  abused  always  awakened 
her  wrath. 

"Goose-girl,  indeed!"  she  would  say.  "I  can  tell  you 
any  of  you  are  fitter  for  the  work  than  she.  My  father 
often  said,  last  summer,  that  it  troubled  him  to  see  such 
a  bright-eyed,  patient  little  maiden  tending  geese. 
Humph !  She  would  not  harm  them,  as  you  would, 
Janzoon  Kolp;  and  she  would  not  tread  upon  them,  as 
you  might,  Kate  Wouters." 

This  would  be  pretty  sure  to  start  a  laugh  at  the 
clumsy,  ill-natured  Kate's  expense;  and  Annie  would 
walk  loftily  away  from  the  group  of  young  gossips.  Per- 
haps some  memory  of  Gretel's  assailants  crossed  her 
mind  as  she  skated  rapidly  toward  Amsterdam;  for  her 
eyes  sparkled  ominously,  and  she  more  than  once  gave 
her  pretty  head  a  defiant  toss.  When  that  mood  passed, 
such  a  bright,  rosy,  affectionate  look  illumined  her  face, 
that  more  than  one  weary  workingman  turned  to  gaze 
after  her,  and  to  wish  that  he  had  a  glad,  contented  lass 
like  that  for  a  daughter. 

There  were  five  joyous  households  in  Broek  that  night. 

The  boys  were  back  safe  and  sound;  and  they  found 
all  well  at  home.  Even  the  sick  lady  at  neighbor  Van 
Stoepel's  was  out  of  danger. 


HANS  BRINKER 

But  the  next  morning.  Ah,  how  stupidly  school-bells 
will  ding-dong,  ding-dong,  when  one  is  tired. 

Ludwig  was  sure  he  had  never  listened  to  anything  so 
odious.  Even  Peter  felt  pathetic  on  the  occasion.  Carl 
said  it  was  a  shame  for  a  fellow  to  have  to  turn  out  when 
his  bones  were  splitting.  And  Jacob  soberly  bade  Ben 
"Goot-py!"  and  walked  off  with  his  satchel  as  if  it 
weighed  a  hundred  pounds. 


XXXII 

THE    CRISIS 

WHILE  the  boys  are  nursing  their  fatigue,  we  will  take 
a  peep  into  the  Brinker  cottage. 

Can  it  be  that  Gretel  and  her  mother  have  not  stirred 
since  we  saw  them  last  ?  that  the  sick  man  upon  the  bed 
has  not  even  turned  over  ?  It  was  four  days  ago;  and 
there  is  the  sad  group  just  as  it  was  before.  No,  not 
precisely  the  same;  for  Raff  Brinker  is  paler:  his  fever 
is  gone,  though  he  knows  nothing  of  what  is  passing. 
Then  they  were  alone  in  the  bare,  clean  room.  Now  there 
is  another  group  in  an  opposite  corner. 

Dr.  Boekman  is  there,  talking  in  a  low  tone  with  a 
stout  young  man,  who  listens  intently.  The  stout  young 
man  is  his  student  and  assistant.  Hans  is  there  also. 
He  stands  near  the  window,  respectfully  waiting  until 
he  shall  be  accosted. 

"You  see,  Vollenhoven,"  said  Dr.  Boekman,  "it  is  a 
clear  case  of — "  and  here  the  doctor  went  off  into  a  queer 
jumble  of  Latin  and  Dutch  that  I  cannot  conveniently 
translate. 

251 


252  HANS   BRINKER 

After  a  while,  as  Vollenhoven  looked  at  him  rather 
blankly,  the  learned  man  condescended  to  speak  to  him 
in  simpler  phrase. 

"It  is  probably  like  Rip  Donderdunck's  case,"  he 
explained  in  a  low,  mumbling  tone.  "He  fell  from  the 
top  of  Voppelploot's  windmill.  After  the  accident,  the 
man  was  stupid,  and  finally  became  idiotic.  In  time, 
he  lay  helpless,  like  yon  fellow  on  the  bed;  moaned,  too, 
like  him,  and  kept  constantly  lifting  his  hand  to  his  head. 
My  learned  friend  Von  Choppem  performed  an  opera- 
tion upon  this  Donderdunck,  and  discovered  under  the 
skull  a  small  dark  sac,  which  pressed  upon  the  brain. 
This  had  been  the  cause  of  the  trouble.  My  friend  Von 
Choppem  removed  it — a  splendid  operation !  You  see, 
according  to  Celsus — "  and  here  the  doctor  again  went 
off  into  Latin. 

"Did  the  man  live?"  asked  the  assistant,  respectfully. 

Dr.  Boekman  scowled.  "That  is  of  no  consequence. 
I  believe  he  died.  But  why  not  fix  your  mind  on  the 
grand  features  of  the  case  ?  Consider  a  moment  how — " 
and  he  plunged  into  Latin  mysteries  more  deeply  than 
ever. 

"But,  mynheer,"  gently  persisted  the  student,  who 
knew  that  the  doctor  would  not  rise  to  the  surface  for 
hours,  unless  pulled  at  once  from  his  favorite  depths, — 
"mynheer,  you  have  other  engagements  to-day:  three 
legs  in  Amsterdam,  you  remember,  an  eye  in  Broek,  and 
that  tumor  up  the  canal." 


THE  CRISIS  253 

"The  tumor  can  wait,"  said  the  doctor,  reflectively. 
"That  is  another  beautiful  case — a  beautiful  case !  The 
woman  has  not  lifted  her  head  from  her  shoulder  for  two 
months.  Magnificent  tumor,  sir!" 

The  doctor,  by  this  time,  was  speaking  aloud.  He  had 
quite  forgotten  where  he  was. 

Vollenhoven  made  another  attempt. 

"This  poor  fellow  on  the  bed,  mynheer.  Do  you 
think  you  can  save  him  ?" 

"Ah,  indeed,  certainly,"  stammered  the  doctor,  sud- 
denly perceiving  that  he  had  been  talking  rather  off  the 
point, — "certainly;  that  is — I  hope  so." 

"If  any  one  in  Holland  can,  mynheer,"  murmured  the 
assistant  with  honest  bluntness,  "it  is  yourself." 

The  doctor  looked  displeased,  growled  out  a  tender 
request  for  the  student  to  talk  less,  and  beckoned  Hans 
to  draw  near. 

This  strange  man  had  a  great  horror  of  speaking  to 
women,  especially  on  surgical  matters.  "One  can  never 
tell,"  he  said,  "what  moment  the  creatures  will  scream 
or  faint."  Therefore  he  explained  Raff  Drinker's  case 
to  Hans,  and  told  him  what  he  believed  should  be  done 
to  save  the  patient. 

Hans  listened  attentively,  growing  red  and  pale  by 
turns,  and  throwing  quick,  anxious  glances  toward  the 
bed. 

"It  may  kill  the  father,  did  you  say,  mynheer!"  he 
exclaimed  at  last,  in  a  trembling  whisper. 


254  HANS  BRINKER 

"It  may,  my  boy.  But  I  have  a  strong  belief  that  it 
will  cure,  and  not  kill.  Ah,  if  boys  were  not  such  dunces  ! 
I  could  lay  the  whole  matter  before  you;  but  it  would 
be  of  no  use/' 

Hans  looked  blank  at  this  compliment. 

"It  would  be  of  no  use,"  repeated  Dr.  Boekman,  in- 
dignantly. "A  great  operation  is  proposed;  but  one 
might  as  well  do  it  with  a  hatchet.  The  only  question 
asked  is,  ' Will  it  kill?'" 

"The  question  is  everything  to  us,  mynheer,"  said 
Hans,  with  tearful  dignity. 

Dr.  Boekman  looked  at  him  in  sudden  dismay. 

"Ah,  exactly  so!  You  are  right,  boy:  I  am  a  fool! 
Good  boy.  One  does  not  wish  one's  father  killed, — of 
course  not.  I  am  a  fool ! " 

"Will  he  die,  mynheer,  if  this  sickness  goes  on?" 

"Humph!  This  is  no  new  illness.  The  same  thing 
growing  worse  every  instant, — pressure  on  the  brain. 
Will  take  him  off  soon,  like  that,"  said  the  doctor,  snap- 
ping his  ringers. 

"And  the  operation  may  save  him,"  pursued  Hans. 
"How  soon,  mynheer,  can  we  know?" 

Dr.  Boekman  grew  impatient. 

"In  a  day — perhaps  an  hour.  Talk  with  your  mother, 
boy,  and  let  her  decide.  My  time  is  short." 

Hans  approached  his  mother.  At  first,  when  she 
looked  up  at  him,  he  could  not  utter  a  syllable;  then, 
turning  his  eyes  away,  he  said  in  a  firm  voice, — 


THE  CRISIS  255 

"I  must  speak  with  the  mother  alone." 

Quick  little  Gretel,  who  could  not  quite  understand 
what  was  passing,  threw  rather  an  indignant  look  at 
Hans,  and  walked  away. 

"Come  back,  Gretel,  and  sit  down,"  said  Hans, 
sorrowfully. 

She  obeyed. 

Dame  Drinker  and  her  boy  stood  by  the  window, 
while  the  doctor  and  his  assistant,  bending  over  the 
bedside,  conversed  together  in  a  low  tone.  There  was 
no  danger  of  disturbing  the  patient.  He  appeared  like 
one  blind  and  deaf.  Only  his  faint,  piteous  moans 
showed  him  to  be  a  living  man.  Hans  was  talking 
earnestly,  and  in  a  low  voice;  for  he  did  not  wish  his 
sister  to  hear. 

With  dry,  parted  lips  Dame  Brinker  leaned  toward 
him,  searching  his  face,  as  if  suspecting  a  meaning 
beyond  his  words.  Once  she  gave  a  quick,  frightened 
sob  that  made  Gretel  start,  but,  after  that,  listened 
calmly. 

When  Hans  ceased  to  speak,  his  mother  turned,  gave 
one  long,  agonized  look  at  her  husband,  lying  there  so 
pale  and  unconscious,  and  threw  herself  on  her  knees, 
beside  the  bed. 

Poor  little  Gretel !  what  did  all  this  mean  ?  She  looked 
with  questioning  eyes  at  Hans,  he  was  standing,  but  his 
head  was  bent  as  if  in  prayer;  at  the  doctor,  he  was 
gently  feeling  her  father's  head,  and  looked  like  one 


256  HANS  BRINKER 

examining  some  curious  stone;  at  the  assistant,  the  man 
coughed,  and  turned  away;  at  her  mother, — ah !  little 
Gretel,  that  was  the  best  you  could  do, — to  kneel  beside 
her,  and  twine  your  warm  young  arms  about  her  neck; 
to  weep,  and  implore  God  to  listen. 

When  the  mother  arose,  Dr.  Boekman,  with  a  show 
of  trouble  in  his  eyes,  asked  gruffly,  "Well,  jujvrouw, 
shall  it  be  done?" 

"Will  it  pain  him,  mynheer  ?"  she  asked  in  a  trembling 
voice. 

"I  cannot  say.    Probably  not.    Shall  it  be  done?" 

"It  may  cure  him,  you  said,  and,  mynheer — did  you 
tell  my  boy  that — perhaps — perhaps — "  she  could  not 
finish. 

"Yes,  jufvrouw,  I  said  the  patient  might  sink  under 
the  operation;  but  we  will  hope  it  may  prove  otherwise." 
He  looked  at  his  watch.  The  assistant  moved  impatiently 
toward  the  window.  "Come,  jufvrouw,  time  presses. 
Yes,  or  no?" 

Hans  wound  his  arm  about  his  mother.  It  was  not 
his  usual  way.  He  even  leaned  his  head  against  her 
shoulder. 

"The  meester  awaits  an  answer,"  he  whispered. 

Dame  Brinker  had  long  been  the  head  of  her  house 
in  every  sense.  Many  a  time  she  had  been  very  stern 
with  Hans,  ruling  him  with  a  strong  hand,  and  rejoic- 
ing in  her  motherly  discipline:  now  she  felt  so  weak, 
so  helpless.  It  was  something  to  feel  that  firm  embrace. 


THE  CRISIS  257 

There  was  strength  even  in  the  touch  of  that  yellow 
hair. 

She  turned  to  her  boy  imploringly. 

"OHans!    What  shall  I  say?" 

"Say  what  God  tells  thee,  mother,"  answered  Hans, 
bowing  his  head. 

One  quick,  questioning  prayer  to  Heaven  rose  from 
the  mother's  heart.  The  answer  came. 

She  turned  toward  Dr.  Boekman. 

"It  is  right,  mynheer.     I  consent." 

"Humph!"  grunted  the  doctor,  as  if  to  say,  "You've 
been  long  enough  about  it."  Then  he  conferred  a  mo- 
ment with  his  assistant,  who  listened  with  great  outward 
deference,  but  was  inwardly  rejoicing  at  the  grand  joke 
he  would  have  to  tell  his  fellow-students.  He  had  actually 
seen  a  tear  in  "old  Boekman V  eye. 

Meanwhile  Gretel  looked  on  in  trembling  silence; 
but  when  she  saw  the  doctor  open  a  leathern  case,  and 
take  out  one  sharp,  gleaming  instrument  after  another, 
she  sprang  forward. 

"O  mother!  the  poor  father  meant  no  wrong.  Are 
they  going  to  murder  him  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,  child!"  screamed  Dame  Brinker, 
looking  fiercely  at  Gretel, — "I  do  not  know." 

"This  will  not  do,  jufvrouw"  said  Dr.  Boekman, 
sternly,  and  at  the  same  time  he  cast  a  quick,  penetrating 
look  at  Hans.  "You  and  the  girl  must  leave  the  room. 
The  boy  may  stay." 


258  HANS   BRINKER 

Dame  Brinker  drew  herself  up  in  an  instant.  Her 
eyes  flashed.  Her  whole  countenance  was  changed. 
She  looked  like  one  who  had  never  wept,  never  felt  a 
moment's  weakness.  Her  voice  was  low,  but  decided. 
"I  stay  with  my  husband,  mynheer." 

Dr.  Boekman  looked  astonished.  His  orders  were 
seldom  disregarded  in  this  style.  For  an  instant  his 
eye  met  hers. 

"You  may  remain,  jujvrouw"  he  said  in  an  altered 
voice. 

Gretel  had  already  disappeared. 

In  one  corner  of  the  cottage  was  a  small  closet,  where 
her  rough,  box-like  bed  was  fastened  against  the  wall. 
None  would  think  of  the  trembling  little  creature  crouch- 
ing there  in  the  dark. 

Dr.  Boekman  took  off  his  heavy  coat.  He  filled  an 
earthen  basin  with  water,  and  placed  it  near  the  bed. 
Then,  turning  to  Hans,  he  asked, — 

"Can  I  depend  upon  you,  boy?" 

"You  can,  mynheer." 

"I  believe  you.  Stand  at  the  head,  here:  your  mother 
may  sit  at  your  right, — so."  And  he  placed  a  chair  near 
the  cot. 

"Remember,  jujvrouw,  there  must  be  no  cries,  no 
fainting." 

Dame  Brinker  answered  him  with  a  look. 

He  was  satisfied. 

"Now,  Vollenhoven." 


THE  CRISIS  259 

Oh,  that  case  with  the  terrible  instruments !  The 
assistant  lifted  them.  Gretel,  who  had-  been  peering  with 
brimming  eyes  through  the  crack  of  the  closet-door, 
could  remain  silent  no  longer. 

She  rushed  frantically  across  the  apartment,  seized 
her  hood,  and  ran  from  the  cottage. 


XXXIII 

GRETEL   AND   HILDA 

IT  was  recess-hour.  At  the  first  stroke  of  the  school- 
house-bell  the  canal  seemed  to  give  a  tremendous  shout, 
and  grow  suddenly  alive  with  boys  and  girls.  The  sly 
thing,  shining  so  quietly  under  the  noonday  sun,  was  a 
kaleidoscope  at  heart,  and  only  needed  a  shake  from  that 
great  clapper  to  start  it  into  dazzling  changes. 

Dozens  of  gayly-clad  children  were  skating  in  and  out 
among  each  other;  and  all  their  pent-up  merriment  of 
the  morning  was  relieving  itself  in  song  and  shout  and 
laughter.  There  was  nothing  to  check  the  flow  of  frolic. 
Not  a  thought  of  school-books  came  out  with  them 
into  the  sunshine.  Latin,  arithmetic,  grammar,  all  were 
locked  up  for  an  hour  in  the  dingy  schoolroom.  The 
teacher  might  be  a  noun,  if  he  wished,  and  a  proper  one 
at  that;  but  they  meant  to  enjoy  themselves.  As  long 
as  the  skating  was  as  perfect  as  this,  it  made  no  difference 
whether  Holland  were  on  the  north  pole  or  the  equator. 

And,  as  for  philosophy,  how  could  they  bother  them- 

260 


GRETEL  AND  HILDA  261 

selves  about  inertia  and  gravitation  and  such  things, 
when  it  was  as  much  as  they  could  do  to  keep  from  get- 
ting knocked  over  in  the  commotion  ? 

In  the  height  of  the  fun,  one  of  the  children  called 
out, — 

"What  is  that?" 

"What?    Where?"  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"Why — don't  you  see?  That  dark  thing  over  there 
by  the  idiot's  cottage." 

"I  don't  see  anything,"  said  one. 

"I  do,"  shouted  another.     "It's  a  dog!" 

"Where's  any  dog?"  put  in  a  squeaky  voice  that  we 
have  heard  before.  "It's  no  such  thing:  it's  a  heap  of 
rags." 

"Pooh,  Voost!"  retorted  another,  gruffly.  "That's 
about  as  near  the  fact  as  you  ever  get.  It's  the  goose- 
girl,  Gretel,  looking  for  rats." 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  squeaked  Voost.  "Isn't  she  a 
bundle  of  rags,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Ha,  ha!  Pretty  good  for  you,  Voost!  You'll  get  a 
medal  for  wit  yet,  if  you  keep  on." 

"You'd  get  something  else,  if  her  brother  Hans  were 
here.  I'll  warrant  you  would!"  said  a  muffled-up  little 
fellow,  with  a  cold  in  his  head. 

As  Hans  was  not  there,  Voost  could  afford  to  scout 
the  insinuation. 

"Who  cares  for  him,  little  sneezer?  I'd  fight  a  dozen 
like  him,  any  day,  and  you  in  the  bargain." 


262  HANS  BRINKER 

"You  would  !  would  you  ?  I'd  like  to  catch  you  at  it." 
And,  by  way  of  proving  his  words,  the  sneezer  skated 
off  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

Just  then  a  general  chase  after  three  of  the  biggest  boys 
of  the  school  was  proposed;  and  friend  and  foe,  frolic- 
some as  ever,  were  soon  united  in  a  common  cause. 

Only  one  of  all  that  happy  throng  remembered  the 
dark  little  form  by  the  idiot's  cottage.  Poor  frightened 
Gretel !  She  was  not  thinking  of  them,  though  their 
merry  laughter  floated  lightly  toward  her,  making  her 
feel  like  one  in  a  dream. 

How  loud  the  moans  were  behind  the  darkened  win- 
dow !  What  if  those  strange  men  were  really  killing 
her  father ! 

The  thought  made  her  spring  to  her  feet  with  a  cry  of 
horror. 

"Ah,  no!"  she  sobbed,  sinking  upon  the  frozen  mound 
of  earth  where  she  had  been  sitting,  "mother  is  there, 
and  Hans.  They  will  care  for  him.  But  how  pale  they 
were !  And  even  Hans  was  crying. 

"Why  did  the  cross  old  me  ester  keep  him,  and  send  me 
away  ?"  she  thought.  "I  could  have  clung  to  the  mother, 
and  kissed  her.  That  always  makes  her  stroke  my  hair, 
and  speak  gently,  even  after  she  has  scolded  me.  How 
quiet  it  is  now !  Oh,  if  the  father  should  die,  and  Hans, 
and  the  mother !  what  would  I  do  ?"  And  Gretel,  shiver- 
ing with  cold,  buried  her  face  in  her  arms,  and  cried  as  if 
her  heart  would  break. 


POOR    FRIGHTENED    GRETEL  !      SHE  WAS    NOT   THINKING    OF  THEM,  THOUGH  THEIR 
MERRY  LAUGHTER   FLOATED  LIGHTLY  TOWARD  HER 


GRETEL  AND  HILDA  263 

The  poor  child  had  been  tasked  beyond  her  strength 
during  the  past  four  days.  Through  all,  she  had  been  her 
mother's  willing  little  handmaiden,  soothing,  helping  and 
cheering  the  half-widowed  woman  by  day,  and  watching 
and  praying  beside  her  all  the  long  night.  She  knew 
that  something  terrible  and  mysterious  was  taking  place 
at  this  moment, — something  that  had  been  too  terrible 
and  mysterious  for  even  kind,  good  Hans  to  tell. 

Then  new  thoughts  came.  Why  had  not  Hans  told 
her  ?  It  was  a  shame !  It  was  her  father  as  well  as  his. 
She  was  no  baby.  She  had  once  taken  a  sharp  knife 
from  the  father's  hand.  She  had  even  drawn  him  away 
from  the  mother  on  that  awful  night  when  Hans,  big  as 
he  was,  could  not  help  her.  Why,  then,  must  she  be 
treated  like  one  who  could  do  nothing  ?  Oh,  how  very 
still  it  was,  how  bitter,  bitter  cold  !  If  Annie  Bouman 
had  only  stayed  home,  instead  of  going  to  Amsterdam, 
it  wouldn't  be  so  lonely.  How  cold  her  feet  were  grow- 
ing !  was  it  the  moaning  that  made  her  feel  as  if  she  were 
floating  in  the  air  ? 

This  would  not  do:  the  mother  might  need  her  help 
at  any  moment ! 

Rousing  herself  with  an  effort,  Gretel  sat  upright, 
rubbing  her  eyes  and  wondering, — wondering  that  the 
sky  was  so  bright  and  blue, — wondering  at  the  stillness 
in  the  cottage,  more  than  all,  at  the  laughter  rising  and 
falling  in  the  distance. 

Soon   she   sank   down   again,   the   strange   medley   of 


264  HANS   BRINKER 

thought  growing  more  and  more  confused  in  her  be- 
wildered brain. 

What  a  strange  lip  the  meester  had  !  How  the  stork's 
nest  upon  the  roof  seemed  to  rustle  and  whisper  down  to 
her !  How  bright  those  knives  were  in  the  leathern 
case ! — brighter,  perhaps,  than  the  silver  skates.  If  she 
had  but  worn  her  new  jacket,  she  would  not  shiver  so. 
The  new  jacket  was  pretty, — the  only  pretty  thing  she 
had  ever  worn.  God  had  taken  care  of  her  father  so 
long,  he  would  do  it  still,  if  those  two  men  would  but  go 
away.  Ah,  now  the  me  esters  were  on  the  roof:  they 
were  clambering  to  the  top — no,  it  was  her  mother  and 
Hans, — or  the  storks — it  was  so  dark,  who  could  tell, 
and  the  mound  rocking,  swinging,  in  that  strange  way  ? 
How  sweetly  the  birds  were  singing !  They  must  be 
winter  birds;  for  the  air  was  thick  with  icicles — not  one 
bird,  but  twenty.  Oh !  hear  them,  mother;  wake  me, 
mother,  for  the  race;  I  am  so  tired  with  crying,  and 
crying — > 

A  firm  hand  was  laid  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Get  up,  little  girl!"  cried  a  kind  voice.  "This  will 
not  do,  for  you  to  lie  here  and  freeze." 

Gretel  slowly  raised  her  head.  She  was  so  sleepy, 
that  it  seemed  nothing  strange  to  her  that  Hilda  van 
Gleck  should  be  leaning  over  her,  looking  with  kind, 
beautiful  eyes  into  her  face.  She  had  often  dreamed  it 
before. 

But  she  had  never  dreamed  that  Hilda  was  shaking 


GRETEL  AND  HILDA  265 

her  roughly,  almost  dragging  her  by  main  force;  never 
dreamed  that  she  heard  her  saying,  "Gretel  Brinker, 
you  must  wake !" 

This  was  real.  Gretel  looked  up.  Still  the  lovely, 
delicate  young  lady  was  shaking,  rubbing,  fairly  pounding 
her.  It  must  be  a  dream.  No,  there  was  the  cottage, 
and  the  stork's  nest,  and  the  meester' s  coach  by  the  canal. 
She  could  see  them  now  quite  plainly.  Her  hands  were 
tingling,  her  feet  throbbing:  Hilda  was  forcing  her  to 
walk. 

At  last  Gretel  began  to  feel  like  herself  again. 

"I  have  been  asleep,"  she  faltered,  rubbing  her  eyes 
with  both  hands,  and  looking  very  much  ashamed. 

"Yes,  indeed !  entirely  too  much  asleep,"  laughed 
Hilda,  whose  lips  were  very  pale.  "But  you  are  well 
enough  now.  Lean  upon  me,  Gretel.  There,  keep  mov- 
ing, you  will  soon  be  warm  enough  to  go  by  the  fire. 
Now  let  me  take  you  into  the  cottage." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no,  jufvrouw;  not  in  there!  The  meester 
is  there.  He  sent  me  away." 

Hilda  was  puzzled;  but  she  wisely  forbore  to  ask  at 
present  for  an  explanation.  "Very  well,  Gretel,  try  to 
walk  faster.  I  saw  you  upon  the  mound  some  time  ago; 
but  I  thought  you  were  playing:  that  is  right,  keep 
moving." 

All  this  time  the  kind-hearted  girl  had  been  forcing 
Gretel  to  walk  up  and  down,  supporting  her  with  one 
arm,  and  with  the  other  striving,  as  well  as  she  could,  to 


266  HANS   DRINKER 

take  off  her  own  warm  sack.  But  Gretel  suddenly  sus- 
pected her  intention. 

"Q  jufvrouw,  jufvrouw!"  she  cried,  imploringly.  "  Please 
never  think  of  such  a  thing  as  that!  Oh !  please  keep  it 
on.  I  am  burning  all  over,  jufvrouw!  I  really  am  burn- 
ing. Not  burning,  exactly,  but  pins  and  needles  prick- 
ing all  over  me.  O  jufvrouzv,  don't ! " 

The  poor  child's  dismay  was  so  genuine,  that  Hilda 
hastened  to  reassure  her. 

"Very  well,  Gretel,  move  your  arms  then,  so.  Why, 
your  cheeks  are  as  pink  as  roses  already.  I  think  the 
meester  would  let  you  in  now:  he  certainly  would.  Is 
your  father  so  very  ill  ?" 

"Ah,  jufvrouw"  cried  Gretel,  weeping  afresh,  "he 
is  dying,  I  think.  There  are  two  meesters  in  with 
him  at  this  moment;  and  the  mother  has  scarce 
spoken  to-day.  Can  you  hear  him  moan,  jufvrouw?" 
she  added  with  sudden  terror:  "the  air  buzzes  so  I 
cannot  hear.  He  may  be  dead !  Oh,  I  do  wish  I 
could  hear  him !". 

Hilda  listened.  The  cottage  was  very  near,  but  not 
a  sound  could  be  heard. 

Something  told  her  that  Gretel  was  right.  She  ran 
to  the  window. 

"You  cannot  see  there,  my  lady,"  sobbed  Gretel, 
eagerly;  "the  mother  has  oiled  paper  hanging  inside. 
But  at  the  other  one,  in  the  south  end  of  the  cottage, 
you  can  look  in  where  the  paper  is  torn." 


GRETEL  AND  HILDA  267 

Hilda,  in  her  anxiety,  ran  round  past  the  corner  where 
the  low  roof  was  fringed  with  its  loosened  thatch. 

A  sudden  thought  checked  her. 

"It  is  not  right  for  me  to  peep  into  another's  house 
in  this  way,"  she  said  to  herself;  then,  softly  calling  to 
Gretel,  she  added  in  a  whisper,  "You  may  look;  perhaps 
he  is  only  sleeping." 

Gretel  tried  to  walk  briskly  toward  the  spot;  but 
her  limbs  were  trembling.  Hilda  hastened  to  her  sup- 
port. 

"You  are  sick,  yourself,  I  fear,"  she  said,  kindly. 

"No,  not  sick,  jufvrouw;  but  my  heart  cries  all  the 
time  now,  even  when  my  eyes  are  as  dry  as  yours.  Why, 
jufvrouw,  your  eyes  are  not  dry !  Are  you  crying  for  us? 
O  jufvrouw,  if  God  sees  you !  Oh,  I  know  father  will 
get  better  now!"  and  the  little  creature,  even  while 
reaching  to  look  through  the  tiny  window,  kissed  Hilda's 
hand  again  and  again. 

The  sash  was  sadly  patched  and  broken;  a  torn  piece 
of  paper  hung  half-way  down  across  it.  GretePs  face 
was  pressed  to  the  window. 

"Can  you  see  anything?"  whispered  Hilda  at  last. 

"Yes;  the  father  lies  very  still,  his  head  is  bandaged, 
and  all  their  eyes  are  fastened  upon  him.  O  jufvrouw!" 
almost  screamed  Gretel,  as  she  started  back,  and,  by  a 
quick,  dexterous  movement,  shook  off  her  heavy  wooden 
shoes,  "I  must  go  in  to  my  mother.  Will  you  come  with 
me?" 


268  HANS   DRINKER 

"Not  now,  the  bell  is  ringing.  I  shall  come  again 
soon.  Good-by." 

Gretel  scarce  heard  the  words.  She  remembered,  for 
many  a  day  afterward,  the  bright,  pitying  smile  on 
Hilda's  face  as  she  turned  away. 


XXXIV 

THE    AWAKENING 

AN  angel  could  not  have  entered  the  cottage  more 
noiselessly.  Gretel,  not  daring  to  look  at  any  one,  slid 
softly  to  her  mother's  side. 

The  room  was  very  still.  She  could  hear  the  old  doc- 
tor breathe.  She  could  almost  hear  the  sparks  as  they 
fell  into  the  ashes  on  the  hearth.  The  mother's  hand 
was  very  cold;  but  a  burning  spot  glowed  on  her  cheek; 
and  her  eyes  were  like  a  deer's,  so  bright,  so  sad,  so  eager. 

At  last  there  was  a  movement  upon  the  bed,  very 
slight,  but  enough  to  cause  them  all  to  start.  Dr.  Boek- 
man  leaned  eagerly  forward. 

Another  movement.  The  large  hand,  so  white  and 
soft  for  a  poor  man's  hand,  twitched,  then  raised  itself 
steadily  toward  the  forehead. 

It  felt  the  bandage,  not  in  a  restless,  crazy  way,  but 
with  a  questioning  movement,  that  caused  even  Dr. 
Boekman  to  hold  his  breath.  Then  the  eyes  opened 

slowly. 

269 


270  HANS  DRINKER 

"Steady,  steady!"  said  a  voice  that  sounded  very 
strange  to  Gretel.  "Shift  that  mat  higher,  boys!  Now 
throw  on  the  clay.  The  waters  are  rising  fast;  no  time 


to—" 


Dame  Brinker  sprang  forward  like  a  young  panther. 

She  seized  his  hands,  and,  leaning  over  him,  cried, 
"Raff,  Raff,  boy,  speak  to  me!" 

"Is  it  you,  Meitje?"  he  asked  faintly.  "I  have  been 
asleep,  hurt,  I  think.  Where  is  little  Hans?" 

"Here  I  am,  father!"  shouted  Hans,  half  mad  with 
joy.  But  the  doctor  held  him  back. 

"He  knows  us!"  screamed  Dame  Brinker.  "Great 
God  !  he  knows  us  !  Gretel,  Gretel,  come  see  your  father ! " 

In  vain  Dr.  Boekman  commanded  "silence!"  and 
tried  to  force  them  from  the  bedside.  He  could  not  keep 
them  off. 

Hans  and  his  mother  laughed  and  cried  together  as 
they  hung  over  the  newly  awakened  man.  Gretel  made 
no  sound,  but  gazed  at  them  all  with  glad,  startled  eyes. 
Her  father  was  speaking  in  a  faint  voice, — 

"Is  the  baby  asleep,  Meitje?" 

"The  baby !"  echoed  Dame  Brinker.  "O  Gretel,  that 
is  you!  And  he  calls  Hans,  'little  Hans/  Ten  years 
asleep !  O  mynheer !  you  have  saved  us  all.  He  has 
known  nothing  for  ten  years.  Children,  why  don't  you 
thank  the  meester?" 

The  good  woman  was  beside  herself  with  joy.  Dr. 
Boekman  said  nothing;  but,  as  his  eyes  met  hers,  he 


THE  AWAKENING  271 

pointed  upward.  She  understood.  So  did  Hans  and 
Gretel. 

With  one  accord  they  knelt  by  the  cot,  side  by  side. 
Dame  Brinker  felt  for  her  husband's  hand  even  while 
she  was  praying.  Dr.  Boekman's  head  was  bowed.  The 
assistant  stood  by  the  hearth  with  his  back  toward  them. 

"Why  do  you  pray?"  murmured  the  father,  looking 
feebly  from  the  bed  as  they  rose.  "Is  it  God's  day?" 

It  was  not  Sunday;  but  his  vrouw  bowed  her  head: 
she  could  not  speak. 

"Then  we  should  have  a  chapter,"  said  Raff  Brinker, 
speaking  with  difficulty.  "I  do  not  know  how  it  is.  I 
am  very,  very  weak.  Mayhap  the  minister  will  read  to 
us?" 

Gretel  lifted  the  big  Dutch  Bible  from  its  carved  shelf. 
Dr.  Boekman,  rather  dismayed  at  being  called  a  minister, 
coughed,  and  handed  the  volume  to  his  assistant. 

"Read,"  he  muttered.  "These  people  must  be  kept 
quiet,  or  the  man  will  die  yet." 

When  the  chapter  was  finished,  Dame  Brinker  mo- 
tioned mysteriously  to  the  rest,  by  way  of  telling  them 
that  her  husband  was  asleep. 

"Now,  jufvrouw"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  subdued  tone, 
as  he  drew  on  his  thick  woollen  mittens,  "there  must  be 
perfect  quiet.  You  understand.  This  is  truly  a  most 
remarkable  case.  I  shall  come  again  to-morrow.  Give 
the  patient  no  food  to-day;"  and,  bowing  hastily,  he 
left  the  cottage,  followed  by  his  assistant. 


272  HANS  DRINKER 

His  grand  coach  was  not  far  away.  The  driver  had 
kept  the  horses  moving  slowly  up  and  down  by  the  canal, 
nearly  all  the  time  the  doctor  had  been  in  the  cottage. 

Hans  went  out  also. 

"May  God  bless  you,  mynheer!"  he  said,  blushing 
and  trembling,  "I  can  never  repay  you;  but  if — " 

"Yes,  you  can/'  interrupted  the  doctor,  crossly.  "You 
can  use  your  wits  when  the  patient  wakes  again.  This 
clacking  and  snivelling  is  enough  to  kill  a  well  man,  let 
alone  one  lying  on  the  edge  of  his  grave.  If  you  want 
your  father  to  get  well,  keep  'em  quiet." 

So  saying,  Dr.  Boekman,  without  another  word, 
stalked  off  to  meet  his  coach,  leaving  Hans  standing  there 
with  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open. 

Hilda  was  reprimanded  severely  that  day  for  return- 
ing late  to  school  after  recess,  and  for  imperfect  recitations. 

She  had  remained  near  the  cottage  until  she  heard 
Dame  Brinker  laugh,  until  she  had  heard  Hans  say, 
"Here  I  am,  father!"  and  then  she  had  gone  back  to 
her  lessons.  What  wonder  that  she  missed  them !  How 
could  she  get  a  long  string  of  Latin  verbs  by  heart,  when 
her  heart  did  not  care  a  fig  for  them,  but  would  keep 
saying  to  itself,  "Oh!  I  am  so  glad,  I  am  so  glad!" 


XXXV 

BONES    AND   TONGUES 

BONES  are  strange  things.  One  would  suppose  that 
they  knew  nothing  at  all  about  school-affairs;  but  they 
do.  Even  Jacob  Foot's  bones,  buried  as  they  were  in 
flesh,  were  sharp  in  the  matter  of  study-hours. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  his  return,  they  ached  through 
and  through,  giving  Jacob  a  twinge  at  every  stroke  of 
the  school-bell,  as  if  to  say,  "Stop  that  clapper!  There's 
trouble  in  it."  After  school,  on  the  contrary,  they  were 
quiet  and  comfortable;  in  fact,  seemed  to  be  taking  a 
nap  among  their  cushions. 

The  other  boys'  bones  behaved  in  a  similar  manner; 
but  that  is  not  so  remarkable.  Being  nearer  the  day- 
light than  Jacob's,  they  might  be  expected  to  be  more 
learned  in  the  ways  of  the  world.  Master  Ludwig's, 
especially,  were  like  beauty,  only  skin  deep:  they  were 
the  most  knowing  bones  you  ever  heard  of.  Just  put 
before  him,  ever  so  quietly,  a  grammar-book,  with  a 
long  lesson  marked  in  it,  and  immediately  the  sly  bone 

273 


274  HANS   BRINKER 

over  his  eyes  would  set  up  such  an  aching!  Request 
him  to  go  to  the  garret  for  your  foot-stove,  instantly 
the  bones  would  remind  him  that  he  was  "too  tired." 
Ask  him  to  go  to  the  confectioner's,  a  mile  away,  and 
presto!  not  a  bone  would  remember  that  it  ever  had  been 
used  before. 

Bearing  all  this  in  mind,  you  will  not  wonder  when  I 
tell  you  that  our  five  boys  were  among  the  happiest  of 
the  happy  throng  pouring  forth  from  the  schoolhouse 
that  day. 

Peter  was  in  excellent  spirits.  He  had  heard,  through 
Hilda,  of  Dame  Blinker's  laugh  and  of  Hans's  joyous 
words;  and  he  needed  no  further  proof  that  Raff  Brinker 
was  a  cured  man.  In  fact,  the  news  had  gone  forth  in 
every  direction  for  miles  around.  Persons  who  had  never 
before  cared  for  the  Brinkers,  or  even  mentioned  them, 
except  with  a  contemptuous  sneer,  or  a  shrug  of  pre- 
tended pity,  now  became  singularly  familiar  with  every 
point  of  their  history.  There  was  no  end  to  the  number 
of  ridiculous  stories  that  were  flying  about. 

Hilda,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  had  stopped 
to  exchange  a  word  with  the  doctor's  coachman  as  he 
stood  by  the  horses,  pommelling  his  chest,  and  clapping 
his  hands.  Her  kind  heart  was  overflowing.  She  could 
not  help  pausing  to  tell  the  cold,  tired-looking  man,  that 
she  thought  the  doctor  would  be  out  soon:  she  even 
hinted  to  him  that  she  suspected,  only  suspected,  that  a 
wonderful  cure  had  been  performed, — an  idiot  brought 


BONES  AND  TONGUES  275 

to  his  senses.  Nay,  she  was  sure  of  it;  for  she  had  heard 
his  widow  laugh — no,  not  his  widow,  of  course,  but 
his  wife;  for  the  man  was  as  much  alive  as  anybody, 
and,  for  all  she  knew,  sitting  up  and  talking  like  a 
lawyer. 

All  this  was  very  indiscreet.  Hilda,  in  an  impenitent 
sort  of  way,  felt  it  to  be  so. 

But  it  is  always  so  delightful  to  impart  pleasant  or 
surprising  news ! 

She  went  tripping  along  by  the  canal,  quite  resolved 
to  repeat  the  sin,  ad  infinitum,  and  tell  nearly  every  girl 
and  boy  in  the  school. 

Meantime,  Janzoon  Kolp  came  skating  by.  Of  course, 
in  two  seconds,  he  was  striking  slippery  attitudes,  and 
shouting  saucy  things  to  the  coachman,  who  stared  at 
him  in  indolent  disdain. 

This,  to  Janzoon,  was  equivalent  to  an  invitation  to 
draw  nearer.  The  coachman  was  now  upon  his  box, 
gathering  up  the  reins,  and  grumbling  at  his  horses. 

Janzoon  accosted  him. 

"I  say.  What's  going  on  at  the  idiot's  cottage?  Is 
your  boss  in  there?" 

Coachman  nodded  mysteriously. 

"Whew!"  whistled  Janzoon,  drawing  closer.  "Old 
Brinker  dead  ?" 

The  driver  grew  big  with  importance,  and  silent  in 
proportion. 

"See  here,  old  pincushion,  I'd  run  home  yonder,  and 


276  HANS   BRINKER 

get  you  a  chunk  of  gingerbread,  if  I  thought  you  could 
open  your  mouth." 

Old  pincushion  was  human:  long  hours  of  waiting 
had  made  him  ravenously  hungry.  At  Janzoon's  hint, 
his  countenance  showed  signs  of  a  collapse. 

"That's  right,  old  fellow!"  pursued  his  tempter. 
"Hurry  up;  what  news?  old  Drinker  dead?" 

"No,  CURED  !  got  his  wits,"  said  the  coachman,  shoot- 
ing forth  his  words,  one  at  a  time,  like  so  many  bullets. 

Like  bullets  (figuratively  speaking),  they  hit  Janzoon 
Kolp.  He  jumped  as  if  he  had  been  shot. 

"Goede  Gunst !    You  don't  say  so  !" 

The  man  pressed  his  lips  together,  and  looked  sig- 
nificantly toward  Master  Kolp's  shabby  residence. 

Just  then  Janzoon  saw  a  group  of  boys  in  the  distance. 
Hailing  them  in  a  rowdy  style,  common  to  boys  of  his 
stamp  all  over  the  world, — whether  in  Africa,  Japan, 
Amsterdam  or  Paris, — he  scampered  toward  them,  for- 
getting coachman,  gingerbread,  everything  but  the 
wonderful  news. 

Therefore,  by  sundown,  it  was  well  known  through- 
out the  neighboring  country  that  Dr.  Boekman,  chancing 
to  stop  at  the  cottage,  had  given  the  idiot  Brinker  a 
tremendous  dose  of  medicine  as  brown  as  gingerbread. 
It  had  taken  six  men  to  hold  him  while  it  was  poured 
down.  The  idiot  had  immediately  sprung  to  his  feet, 
in  full  possession  of  all  his  faculties,  knocked  over  the 
doctor,  or  thrashed  him  (there  was  admitted  to  be  a 


BONES  AND  TONGUES  277 

slight  uncertainty  as  to  which  of  these  penalties  was 
inflicted),  then  sat  down,  and  addressed  him,  for  all  the 
world,  like  a  lawyer.  After  that,  he  had  turned  and 
spoken  beautifully  to  his  wife  and  children.  Dame 
Drinker  had  laughed  herself  into  violent  hysterics.  Hans 
had  said,  "Here  I  am,  father,  your  own  dear  son!"  and 
Gretel  had  said,  "Here  I  am,  father,  your  own  dear 
Gretel!"  and  the  doctor  had  afterward  been  seen  lean- 
ing back  in  his  carnage,  looking  just  as  white  as  a  corpse. 


XXXVI 

A   NEW   ALARM 

WHEN  Dr.  Boekman  called  the  next  day  at  the  Brinker 
cottage,  he  could  not  help  noticing  the  cheerful,  comfort- 
able aspect  of  the  place.  An  atmosphere  of  happiness 
breathed  upon  him  as  he  opened  the  door.  Dame  Brinker 
sat  complacently  knitting  beside  the  bed;  her  husband 
was  enjoying  a  tranquil  slumber;  and  Gretel  was  noise- 
lessly kneading  rye  bread  on  the  table  in  the  corner. 

The  doctor  did  not  remain  long.  He  asked  a  few  simple 
questions,  appeared  satisfied  with  the  answers,  and,  after 
feeling  his  patient's  pulse,  said,  "Ah,  very  weak  yet, 
jufvrouw ;  very  weak,  indeed.  He  must  have  nourish- 
ment. You  may  begin  to  feed  the  patient,  ahem !  Not 
too  much;  but  what  you  do  give  him,  let  it  be  strong, 
and  of  the  best." 

"Black  bread  we  have,  mynheer,  and  porridge," 
replied  Dame  Brinker,  cheerily.  "They  have  always 
agreed  with  him  well." 

"Tut,  tut!"  said  the  doctor,  frowning:  "nothing  of 

278 


A  NEW  ALARM  279 

the  kind.  He  must  have  the  juice  of  fresh  meat,  white 
bread  dried  and  toasted,  good  Malaga  wine,  and — ahem ! 
The  man  looks  cold:  give  him  more  covering,  something 
light  and  warm.  Where  is  the  boy?" 

"Hans,  mynheer,  has  gone  into  Broek  to  look  for  work. 
He  will  be  back  soon.  Will  the  meester  please  be  seated  ?" 

Whether  the  hard,  polished  stool  offered  by  Dame 
Brinker  did  not  look  particularly  tempting,  or  whether 
the  dame  herself  frightened  him,  partly  because  she  was 
a  woman,  and  partly  because  an  anxious,  distressed  look 
had  suddenly  appeared  in  her  face,  I  cannot  say.  Cer- 
tain it  is,  that  our  eccentric  doctor  looked  hurriedly 
about  him,  muttered  something  about  "extraordinary 
case,"  bowed,  and  disappeared,  before  Dame  Brinker 
had  time  to  say  another  word. 

Strange  that  the  visit  of  their  good  benefactor  should 
have  left  a  cloud;  yet  so  it  was.  Gretel  frowned, — an 
anxious,  childish  frown, — and  kneaded  the  bread-dough 
violently,  without  looking  up.  Dame  Brinker  hurried 
to  her  husband's  bedside,  leaned  over  him,  and  fell  into 
silent  but  passionate  weeping. 

In  a  moment  Hans  entered. 

"Why,  mother!"  he  whispered  in  alarm,  "what  ails 
thee  ?  Is  the  father  worse  ?" 

She  turned  her  quivering  face  toward  him,  making 
no  attempt  to  conceal  her  distress. 

"Yes:   he  is  starving,  perishing.    The  meester  said  it/' 

Hans  turned  pale. 


280  HANS   DRINKER 

"What  does  this  mean,  mother  ?  We  must  feed  him 
at  once.  Here,  Gretel,  give  me  the  porridge." 

"Nay!"  cried  his  mother,  distractedly,  yet  without 
raising  her  voice.  "It  may  kill  him.  Our  poor  fare  is 
too  heavy  for  him.  O  Hans !  he  will  die,  the  father  will 
die,  if  we  use  him  this  way.  He  must  have  meat,  and 
sweet  wine,  and  a  dek-bed.  Oh  !  what  shall  I  do,  what 
shall  I  do?"  she  sobbed,  wringing  her  hands.  "There 
is  not  a  stiver  in  the  house." 

Gretel  pouted:  it  was  the  only  way  she  could  express 
sympathy  just  then.  Her  tears  fell  one  by  one  into  the 
dough. 

"Did  the  meester  say  he  must  have  these  things, 
mother?"  asked  Hans. 

"Yes,  he  did." 

"Well,  mother,  don't  cry:  he  shall  have  them.  I  shall 
bring  meat  and  wine  before  night.  Take  the  cover  from 
my  bed.  I  can  sleep  in  the  straw." 

"Yes,  Hans;  but  it  is  heavy,  scant  as  it  is.  The 
meester  said  he  must  have  something  light  and  warm. 
He  will  perish.  Our  peat  is  giving  out,  Hans.  The  father 
has  wasted  it  sorely,  throwing  it  on  when  I  was  not  look- 
ing, dear  man." 

"Never  mind,  mother,"  whispered  Hans,  cheerfully. 
"We  can  cut  down  the  willow-tree  and  burn  it,  if  need 
be;  but  I'll  bring  home  something  to-night.  There 
must  be  work  in  Amsterdam,  though  there's  none  in 
Broek.  Never  fear,  mother:  the  worst  trouble  of  all 


A  NEW  ALARM  281 

is  past.  We  can  brave  anything,  now  that  the  father 
is  himself  again." 

"Ay!-"  sobbed  Dame  Drinker,  hastily  drying  her  eyes, 
"that  is  true  indeed." 

"Of  course  it  is.  Look  at  him,  mother;  how  softly 
he  sleeps !  Do  you  think  God  would  let  him  starve, 
just  after  giving  him  back  to  us  ?  Why,  mother,  I'm  as 
sure  of  getting  all  the  father  needs  as  if  my  pocket  was 
bursting  with  gold.  There,  now,  don't  fret."  And,  hur- 
riedly kissing  her,  Hans  caught  up  his  skates,  and  slipped 
from  the  cottage. 

Poor  Hans !  Disappointed  in  his  morning's  errand, 
half  sickened  with  this  new  trouble,  he  wore  a  brave 
look,  and  tried  to  whistle  as  he  tramped  resolutely  off 
with  the  firm  intention  of  mending  matters. 

Want  had  never  before  pressed  so  sorely  upon  the 
Brinker  family.  Their  stock  of  peat  was  nearly  exhausted; 
and  all  the  flour  in  the  cottage  was  in  Gretel's  dough. 
They  had  scarcely  cared  to  eat  during  the  past  few  days; 
scarcely  realized  their  condition.  Dame  Brinker  had 
felt  so  sure  that  she  and  the  children  could  earn  money 
before  the  worst  came,  that  she  had  given  herself  up  to 
the  joy  of  her  husband's  recovery.  She  had  not  even 
told  Hans  that  the  few  pieces  of  silver  in  the  old  mitten 
were  quite  gone. 

Hans  reproached  himself,  now,  that  he  had  not  hailed 
the  doctor  when  he  saw  him  enter  his  coach,  and  drive 
rapidly  away  in  the  direction  of  Amsterdam. 


282  HANS  BRINKER 

"Perhaps  there  is  some  mistake,"  he  thought.  "The 
meester  surely  would  have  known  that  meat  and  sweet 
wine  were  not  at  our  command.  And  yet  the  father 
looks  very  weak,  he  certainly  does.  I  must  get  work. 
If  Mynheer  van  Holp  were  back  from  Rotterdam,  I 
could  get  plenty  to  do.  But  Master  Peter  told  me  to 
let  him  know  if  he  could  do  aught  to  serve  us.  I  shall 
go  to  him  at  once.  Oh,  if  it  were  but  summer!" 

All  this  time  Hans  was  hastening  toward  the  canal. 
Soon  his  skates  were  on;  and  he  was  skimming  rapidly 
toward  the  residence  of  Mynheer  van  Holp. 

"The  father  must  have  meat  and  wine  at  once,"  he 
muttered.  "But  how  can  I  earn  the  money  in  time  to 
buy  them  to-day  ?  There  is  no  other  way  but  to  go,  as 
I  promised,  to  Master  Peter.  What  would  a  gift  of  meat 
and  wine  be  to  him  ?  When  the  father  is  once  fed,  I 
can  rush  down  to  Amsterdam,  and  earn  the  morrow's 
supply." 

Then  came  other  thoughts, — thoughts  that  made  his 
heart  thump  heavily,  and  his  cheeks  burn  with  a  new 
shame.  "It  is  begging,  to  say  the  least.  Not  one  of  the 
Brinkers  has  ever  been  a  beggar.  Shall  I  be  the  first  ? 
Shall  my  poor  father,  just  coming  back  into  life,  learn 
that  his  family  have  asked  for  charity, — he,  always  so 
wise  and  thrifty?  No!"  cried  Hans  aloud,  "better  a 
thousand  times  to  part  with  the  watch. 

"I  can  at  least  borrow  money  on  it  in  Amsterdam," 
he  thought,  turning  around:  "that  will  be  no  disgrace. 


A  NEW  ALARM  283 

I  can  find  work  at  once,  and  get  it  back  again.  Nay, 
perhaps  I  can  even  speak  to  the  father  about  it." 

This  last  thought  almost  made  the  lad  dance  for  joy. 
Why  not,  indeed,  speak  to  the  father  ?  He  was  a  ra- 
tional being  now.  "He  may  wake,"  thought  Hans, 
"quite  bright  and  rested;  may  tell  us  the  watch  is  of  no 
consequence;  to  sell  it,  of  course.  Huzza!"  and  Hans 
almost  flew  over  the  ice. 

A  few  moments  more,  and  the  skates  were  again  swing- 
ing from  his  arm.  He  was  running  toward  the  cottage. 

His  mother  met  him  at  the  door. 

"O  Hans!"  she  cried,  her  face  radiant  with  joy,  "the 
young  lady  has  been  here  with  her  maid.  She  brought 
everything, — meat,  jelly,  wine  and  bread,  a  whole  basket- 
ful !  Then  the  meester  sent  a  man  from  town  with  more 
wine,  and  a  fine  bed  and  blankets  for  the  father.  Oh ! 
he  will  get  well  now.  God  bless  them!" 

"God  bless  them!"  echoed  Hans,  and,  for  the  first 
time  that  day,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 


XXXVII 

THE  FATHER'S  RETURN 

THAT  evening  Raff  Drinker  felt  so  much  better  that 
he  insisted  upon  sitting  up  a  while  on  the  rough,  high- 
backed  chair  by  the  fire.  For  a  few  moments  there  was 
quite  a  commotion  in  the  little  cottage.  Hans  was  all- 
important  on  the  occasion;  for  his  father  was  a  heavy 
man,  and  needed  something  firm  to  lean  upon.  The 
dame,  though  none  of  your  fragile  ladies,  was  in  such  a 
state  of  alarm  and  excitement  at  the  bold  step  they  were 
taking  in  lifting  him  without  the  meester 's  orders,  that 
she  came  near  pulling  her  husband  over,  even  while  she 
believed  herself  to  be  his  main  prop  and  support. 

"Steady,  vrouzv,  steady  !"  panted  Raff.  "Have  I  grown 
old  and  feeble  ?  or  is  it  the  fever  makes  me  thus  helpless  ?" 

"Hear  the  man?"  laughed  Dame  Brinker,  "talking 
like  any  other  Christian.  Why,  you're  only  weak  from 
the  fever,  Raff.  Here's  the  chair,  settled  snug  and  warm: 
now  sit  thee  down — hi-di-didy,  there  we  are!" 

With  these  words,  Dame  Brinker  let  her  half  of  the 

284 


THE   FATHER'S   RETURN  285 

burden  settle  slowly  into  the  chair.  Hans  prudently 
did  the  same. 

Meanwhile  Gretel  flew  about  generally,  bringing  every 
possible  thing  to  her  mother  to  tuck  behind  the  father's 
back,  and  spread  over  his  knees.  Then  she  twitched 
the  carved  bench  under  his  feet,  and  Hans  kicked  the 
fire  to  make  it  brighter. 

The  father  was  "sitting  up"  at  last.  What  wonder 
that  he  looked  about  him  like  one  bewildered?  "Little 
Hans"  had  just  been  almost  carrying  him.  "The  baby" 
was  over  four  feet  long,  and  was  demurely  brushing  up 
the  hearth  with  a  bundle  of  willow-wisps.  Meitje,  the 
vrouwy  winsome  and  fair  as  ever,  had  gained  at  least  fifty 
pounds  in  what  seemed  to  him  a  few  hours.  She  also 
had  some  new  lines  in  her  face  that  puzzled  him.  The 
only  familiar  things  in  the  room  were  the  pine  table, 
that  he  had  made  before  he  was  married,  the  Bible  upon 
the  shelf,  and  the  cupboard  in  the  corner. 

Ah,  RafF  Brinker !  it  was  only  natural  that  your  eyes 
should  fill  with  hot  tears,  even  while  looking  at  the  joy- 
ful faces  of  your  loved  ones.  Ten  years  dropped  from  a 
man's  life  are  no  small  loss, — ten  years  of  manhood,  of 
household  happiness  and  care, — ten  years  of  honest  labor, 
of  conscious  enjoyment  of  sunshine  and  outdoor  beauty, — 
ten  years  of  grateful  life;  one  day  looking  forward  to  all 
this;  the  next,  waking  to  find  them  passed,  and  a  blank. 
What  wonder  the  scalding  tears  dropped  one  by  one 
upon  your  cheek ! 


286  HANS   BRINKER 

Tender  little  Gretel !  The  prayer  of  her  life  was  an- 
swered through  those  tears.  She  loved  her  father  from 
that  moment.  Hans  and  his  mother  glanced  silently  at 
each  other  when  they  saw  her  spring  toward  him  and 
throw  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Father,  dear  father,"  she  whispered,  pressing  her 
cheek  close  to  his,  "don't  cry.  We  ate  all  here/' 

"God  bless  thee,"  sobbed  Raff,  kissing  her  again  and 
again.  "I  had  forgotten  that!" 

Soon  he  looked  up  again,  and  spoke  in  a  cheerful  voice. 
"I  should  know  her,  vrouw"  he  said,  holding  the  sweet 
young  face  between  his  hands,  and  gazing  at  it  as  though 
he  were  watching  it  grow, — "I  should  know  her.  The 
same  blue  eyes,  and  the  lips,  and,  ah,  me !  the  little  song 
she  could  sing  almost  before  she  could  stand.  But  that 
was  long  ago,"  he  added  with  a  sigh,  still  looking  at  her 
dreamily, — "long  ago:  it's  all  gone  now." 

"Not  so,  indeed!"  cried  Dame  Brinker,  eagerly. 
"  Do  you  think  I  would  let  her  forget  it  ?  Gretel,  child, 
sing  the  old  song  thou  hast  known  so  long." 

Raff  Brinker's  hands  fell  wearily,  and  his  eyes  closed; 
but  it  was  something  to  see  the  smile  playing  about  his 
mouth,  as  Gretel's  voice  floated  about  him  like  an  incense. 

It  was  a  simple  air:   she  had  never  known  the  words. 

With  loving  instinct  she  softened  every  note,  until 
Raff  almost  fancied  that  his  two-year-old  baby  was  once 
more  beside  him. 

As   soon   as   the   song  was   finished,    Hans,    laughing 


THE  FATHER'S  RETURN  287 

softly,  mounted  a  wooden  stool,  and  began  to  rummage 
in  the  cupboard. 

"Have  a  care,  Hans,"  said  Dame  Brinker,  who,  through 
all  her  poverty,  was  ever  a  tidy  housewife, — "have  a  care: 
the  wine  is  there  at  your  right,  and  the  white  bread  be- 
yond it." 

"Never  fear,  mother,"  answered  Hans,  reaching  far 
back  on  an  upper  shelf:  "I  shall  do  no  mischief." 

Jumping  down,  he  walked  toward  his  father,  and 
placed  an  oblong  block  of  pine  wood  in  his  hands.  One 
of  its  ends  was  rounded  off;  and  some  deep  cuts  had 
been  made  on  the  top. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  is,  father  ?"  asked  Hans. 

Raff  Brinker' s  face  brightened.  "Indeed,  I  do,  boy! 
It  is  the  boat  I  was  making  you  yest — alack,  not  yester- 
day, but  years  ago." 

"I  have  kept  it  ever  since,  father:  it  can  be  finished 
when  your  hand  grows  strong  again." 

"Yes,  but  not  for  you,  my  lad.  I  must  wait  for  the 
grandchildren.  Why,  you  are  nearly  a  man.  Have  you 
helped  your  mother,  boy,  through  all  these  years  ?" 

"Ay,  and  bravely!"  put  in  Dame  Brinker. 

"Let  me  see,"  muttered  the  father,  looking  in  a  puz- 
zled way  at  them  all:  "how  long  is  it  since  the  night 
when  the  waters  were  coming  in  ?  Tis  the  last  I 
remember." 

"We  have  told  thee  true,  Raff.  It  was  ten  years  last 
Pinxter-week." 


288  HANS   BRINKER 

"Ten  years — and  I  fell  then,  you  say.  Has  the  fever 
been  on  me  ever  since?" 

Dame  Brinker  scarce  knew  how  to  reply.  Should  she 
tell  him  all  ?  Tell  him  that  he  had  been  an  idiot,  almost 
a  lunatic  ?  The  doctor  had  charged  her  on  no  account 
to  worry  or  excite  his  patient. 

Hans  and  Gretel  looked  astonished  when  the  answer 
came. 

"Like  enough,  Raff,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head,  and 
raising  her  eyebrows.  "When  a  heavy  man  like  thee 
falls  on  his  head,  it's  hard  to  say  what  will  come.  But 
thou'rt  well  now,  Raff.  Thank  the  good  Lord  !" 

The  newly  awakened  man  bowed  his  head. 

"Ay,  well  enough,  mine  vrouw"  he  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence;  "but  my  brain  turns,  somehow,  like  a 
spinning-wheel.  It  will  not  be  right  till  I  get  on  the 
dikes  again.  When  shall  I  be  at  work,  think  you?" 

"Hear  the  man!"  cried  Dame  Brinker,  delighted,  yet 
frightened,  too,  for  that  matter.  "We  must  get  him  on 
the  bed,  Hans.  Work,  indeed!" 

They  tried  to  raise  him  from  the  chair;  but  he  was 
not  ready  yet. 

"Be  off  with  ye!"  he  said,  with  something  like  his  old 
smile  (Gretel  had  never  seen  it  before).  "Does  a  man 
want  to  be  lifted  about  like  a  log  ?  I  tell  you,  before 
three  suns,  I  shall  be  on  the  dikes  again.  Ah  !  there'll 
be  some  stout  fellows  to  greet  me.  Jan  Kamphuisen  and 
young  Hoogsvliet.  They  have  been  good  friends  to  thee, 
Hans,  I'll  warrant." 


I  HAVE  KEPT  IT  EVER  SINCE,   FATHER 


THE  FATHER'S   RETURN  289 

Hans  looked  at  his  mother.  Young  Hoogsvliet  had 
been  dead  five  years.  Jan  Kamphuisen  was  in  the  jail 
at  Amsterdam. 

"Ay,  they'd  have  done  their  share,  no  doubt,"  said 
Dame  Brinker,  parrying  the  inquiry,  "had  we  asked 
them.  But,  what  with  working  and  studying,  Hans  has 
been  busy  enough  without  seeking  comrades." 

"Working  and  studying,"  echoed  Raff,  in  a  musing 
tone.  "Can  the  youngsters  read  and  cipher,  Meitje?" 

"You  should  hear  them!"  she  answered  proudly. 
"They  can  run  through  a  book  while  I  mop  the  floor. 
Hans,  there,  is  as  happy  over  a  page  of  big  words  as  a 
rabbit  in  a  cabbage-patch;  as  for  ciphering— 

"Here,  lad,  help  a  bit,"  interrupted  Raff  Brinker:  "I 
must  get  me  on  the  bed  again." 


XXXVIII 

THE    THOUSAND   GUILDERS 

NONE  seeing  the  humble  supper  eaten  in  the  Brinker 
cottage  that  night  would  have  dreamed  of  the  dainty 
fare  hidden  away  near  by.  Hans  and  Gretel  looked 
rather  wistfully  toward  the  cupboard  as  they  drank  their 
cupful  of  water,  and  ate  their  scanty  share  of  black  bread; 
but  even  in  thought  they  did  not  rob  their  father. 

"He  relished  his  supper  well/'  said  Dame  Brinker, 
nodding  sidewise  toward  the  bed,  "and  fell  asleep  the 
next  moment.  Ah,  the  dear  man  will  be  feeble  for  many 
a  day.  He  wanted  sore  to  sit  up  again;  but  while  I  made 
show  of  humoring  him,  and  getting  ready,  he  dropped  off. 
Remember  that,  my  girl,  when  you  have  a  man  of  your 
own  (and  many  a  day  may  it  be  before  that  comes  to 
pass), — remember  you  can  never  rule  by  differing:  ' hum- 
ble wife  is  husband's  boss/-  Tut,  tut !  never  swallow 
such  a  mouthful  as  that  again,  child:  why,  I  could  make 
a  meal  off  of  two  such  pieces.  What's  in  thee,  Hans  ? 

One  would  think  there  were  cobwebs  on  the  wall." 

290 


THE  THOUSAND  GUILDERS  291 

"Oh,  no,  mother!     I  was  only  thinking— 

"Thinking  about  what?  Ah,  no  use  asking,"  she  added 
in  a  changed  tone:  "I  was  thinking  of  the  same  a  while 
ago.  Well,  well,  it's  no  blame  if  we  did  look  to  hear 
something  by  this  time  about  the  thousand  guilders; 
but  not  a  word — no,  it's  plain  enough  he  knows  naught 
about  them." 

Hans  looked  up  anxiously,  dreading  lest  his  mother 
should  grow  agitated,  as  usual,  when  speaking  of  the 
lost  money;  but  she  was  silently  nibbling  her  bread, 
and  looking  with  a  doleful  stare  toward  the  window. 

"Thousand  guilders!"  echoed  a  faint  voice  from  the 
bed.  "Ah,  I  am  sure  they  have  been  of  good  use  to  you, 
vrouw,  through  the  long  years  while  your  man  was  idle." 

The  poor  woman  started  up.  These  words  quite  de- 
stroyed the  hope  that  of  late  had  been  glowing  within 
her. 

"Are  you  awake,  Raff?"  she  faltered. 

"Yes,  Meitje;  and  I  feel  much  better.  Our  money 
was  well  saved,  vrouwy  I  was  saying.  Did  it  last  through 
all  these  ten  years  ?" 

"I — I — have  not  got  it,  Raff,  I — "  She  was  going  to 
tell  him  the  whole  truth,  when  Hans  lifted  his  finger 
warningly,  and  whispered, — 

"Remember  what  the  meester  told  us:  the  father  must 
not  be  worried." 

"Speak  to  him,  child,"  she  answered,  trembling. 

Hans  hurried  to  the  bedside. 


292  HANS   DRINKER 

"I  am  glad  you  are  feeling  better,"  he  said,  leaning 
over  his  father.  "Another  day  will  see  you  quite  strong 
again." 

"Ay,  like  enough.  How  long  did  the  money  last,  Hans  ? 
I  could  not  hear  your  mother.  What  did  she  say?" 

"I  said,  Raff,"  stammered  Dame  Brinker  in  great 
distress,  "that  it  was  all  gone." 

"Well,  well,  wife,  do  not  fret  at  that:  one  thousand 
guilders  is  not  so  very  much  for  ten  years,  and  with 
children  to  bring  up;  but  it  has  helped  to  make  you  all 
comfortable.  Have  you  had  much  sickness  to  bear?" 

"N — no,"  sobbed  the  dame,  lifting  her  apron  to  her 
eyes. 

"Tut — tut,  woman,  why  do  you  cry?"  said  Raff, 
kindly.  "We  will  soon  fill  another  pouch,  when  I  am  on 
my  feet  again.  Lucky  I  told  you  all  about  it  before  I 
fell." 

"Told  me  what,  man  ?" 

"Why,  that  I  buried  the  money.  In  my  dream  just 
now,  it  seemed  I  had  never  said  aught  about  it." 

Dame  Brinker  started  forward.     Hans  caught  her  arm. 

"Hist,  mother!"  he  whispered,  hastily  leading  her 
away:  "we  must  be  very  careful."  Then,  while  she 
stood  with  clasped  hands,  waiting  in  breathless  anxiety, 
he  once  more  approached  the  cot.  Trembling  with 
eagerness  he  said, — 

"That  was  a  troublesome  dream.  Do  you  remember 
when  you  buried  the  money,  father?" 


THE  THOUSAND  GUILDERS  293 

"Yes,  my  boy.  It  was  before  daylight  on  the  same  day 
I  was  hurt.  Jan  Kamphuisen  said  something,  the  sun- 
down before,  that  made  me  distrust  his  honesty.  He 
was  the  only  one  living,  besides  mother,  who  knew  we 
had  saved  a  thousand  guilders:  so  I  rose  up  that  night, 
and  buried  the  money.  Blockhead  that  I  was,  ever  to 
suspect  an  old  friend!" 

"I'll  be  bound,  father,"  pursued  Hans,  in  a  laughing 
voice,  motioning  to  his  mother  and  Gretel  to  remain 
quiet,  "that  you've  forgotten  where  you  buried  it." 

"Ha,  ha!  not  I,  indeed.  But  good-night,  my  son,  I 
can  sleep  again." 

Hans  would  have  walked  away;  but  his  mother's 
gestures  were  not  to  be  disobeyed:  so  he  said  gently, — 

"Good-night,  father!  Where  did  you  say  you  buried 
the  money  ?  I  was  only  a  little  one  then." 

"Close  by  the  willow-sapling  behind  the  cottage," 
said  Raff  Brinker,  drowsily. 

"Ah,  yes  !    North  side  of  the  tree,  wasn't  it,  father  ?" 

"No,  the  south  side.  Ah,  you  know  the  spot  well 
enough,  you  rogue.  Like  enough  you  were  there  when 
your  mother  lifted  it.  Now,  son,  easy;  shift  this  pillow, 
so.  Good-night!" 

"Good-night,  father!"  said  Hans,  ready  to  dance  for 
joy. 

The  moon  rose  very  late  that  night,  shining  in,  full 
and  clear,  at  the  little  window;  but  its  beams  did  not 


294  HANS  BRINKER 

disturb  Raff  Brinker.  He  slept  soundly;  so  did  Gretel. 
As  for  Hans  and  his  mother,  they  had  something  else 
to  do. 

After  making  a  few  hurried  preparations,  they  stole 
forth  with  bright,  expectant  faces,  bearing  a  broken 
spade  and  a  rusty  implement  that  had  done  many  a 
day's  service  when  Raff  was  a  hale  worker  on  the  dikes. 

It  was  so  light  out  of  doors,  they  could  see  the  willow- 
tree  distinctly.  The  frozen  ground  was  hard  as  stone; 
but  Hans  and  his  mother  were  resolute.  Their  only 
dread  was,  that  they  might  disturb  the  sleepers  in  the 
cottage. 

"This  ysbreeker  is  just  the  thing,  mother,"  said  Hans, 
striking  many  a  vigorous  blow;  "but  the  ground  has 
set  so  firm,  it'll  be  a  fair  match  for  it." 

"Never  fear,  Hans,"  she  answered,  watching  him 
eagerly.  "Here,  let  me  try  a  while." 

They  soon  succeeded  in  making  an  impression;  one 
opening,  and  the  rest  was  not  so  difficult. 

Still  they  worked  on,  taking  turns,  and  whispering 
cheerily  to  one  another.  Now  and  then  Dame  Brinker 
stepped  noiselessly  over  the  threshold,  and  listened,  to 
be  certain  that  her  husband  slept. 

"What  grand  news  it  will  be  for  him !"  she  said,  laugh- 
ing, "when  he  is  strong  enough  to  bear  it.  How  I  should 
like  to  put  the  pouch  and  the  stocking,  just  as  we  find 
them,  all  full  of  money,  near  him  this  blessed  night,  for 
the  dear  man  to  see  when  he  wakens !" 


THE  THOUSAND  GUILDERS  295 

"We  must  get  them,  first,  mother,"  panted  Hans, 
still  tugging  away  at  his  work. 

"There's  no  doubt  of  that.  They  can't  slip  away  from 
us,  now,"  she  answered,  shivering  with  cold  and_excite- 
ment  as  she  crouched  beside  the  opening.  "Like  enough 
we'll  find  them  stowed  in  the  old  earthen  pot  I  lost  long 
ago." 

By  this  time  Hans,  too,  began  to  tremble,  but  not 
with  cold.  He  had  penetrated  a  foot  deep  for  quite  a 
space  on  the  south  side  of  the  tree.  At  any  moment 
they  might  come  upon  the  treasure. 

Meantime  the  stars  winked  and  blinked  at  each  other 
as  if  to  say,  "Queer  country,  this  Holland!  How  much 
we  do  see,  to  be  sure!" 

"Strange  that  the  dear  father  should  have  put  it 
down  so  woful  deep,"  said  Dame  Brinker  in  a  rather 
provoked  tone.  "Ah,  the  ground  was  soft  enough  then, 
I  warrant.  How  wise  of  him  to  mistrust  Jan  Kam- 
phuisen,  and  Jan  in  full  credit  at  the  time !  Little  I 
thought  that  handsome  fellow  with  his  gay  ways  would 
ever  go  to  jail !  Now,  Hans,  let  me  take  a  turn.  It's 
lighter  work,  d'ye  see,  the  deeper  we  go  ?  I'd  be  loath 
to  kill  the  tree,  Hans:  will  we  harm  it,  think  you  ?" 

"I  cannot  say,"  he  answered  gravely. 

Hour  after  hour,  mother  and  son  worked  on.  The 
hole  grew  larger  and  deeper.  Clouds  began  to  gather 
in  the  sky,  throwing  elfish  shadows  as  they  passed.  Not 
until  moon  and  stars  faded  away,  and  streaks  of  day- 


296  HANS  BRINKER 

light   began  to   appear,   did   Meitje   Brinker  and   Hans 
look  hopelessly  into  each  other's  face. 

They  had  both  searched  thoroughly,  desperately,  all 
round  the  tree,  south,  north,  east,  west.  The  hidden 
money  was  not  there! 


XXXIX 

GLIMPSES 

ANNIE  BOUMAN  had  a  healthy  distaste  for  Janzoon 
Kolp.  Janzoon  Kolp,  in  his  own  rough  way,  adored 
Annie.  Annie  declared  she  could  not,  "to  save  her  life," 
say  one  civil  word  to  that  odious  boy.  Janzoon  believed 
her  to  be  the  sweetest,  sauciest  creature  in  the  world. 
Annie  laughed  among  her  playmates  at  the  comical  flap- 
ping of  Janzoon's  tattered  and  dingy  jacket:  he  sighed 
in  solitude  over  the  floating  grace  of  her  jaunty  blue 
petticoat.  She  thanked  her  stars  that  her  brothers  were 
not  like  the  Kolps;  and  he  growled  at  his  sister  because 
she  was  not  like  the  Boumans.  They  seemed  to  exchange 
natures  whenever  they  met.  His  presence  made  her 
harsh  and  unfeeling;  and  the  very  sight  of  her  made  him 
gentle  as  a  lamb.  Of  course,  they  were  thrown  together 
very  often.  It  is  thus,  that,  in  some  mysterious  way, 
we  are  convinced  of  error,  and  cured  of  prejudice. 

In  this  case,  however,  the  scheme  failed.  Annie  de- 
tested Janzoon  more  and  more  at  each  encounter;  and 

Janzoon  liked  her  better  and  better  every  day. 

297 


298  HANS   DRINKER 

"He  killed  a  stork,  the  wicked  old  wretch !"  she  would 
say  to  herself. 

"She  knows  I  am  strong  and  fearless,"  thought 
Janzoon. 

"How  red  and  freckled  and  ugly  he  is!"  was  Annie's 
secret  comment  when  she  looked  at  him. 

"How  she  stares,  and  stares!"  thought  Janzoon. 
"Well,  I  am  a  fine,  weather-beaten  fellow,  anyway." 

"Janzoon  Kolp,  you  impudent  boy,  go  right  away 
from  me  !"  Annie  often  said.  "I  don't  want  any  of  your 
company." 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Janzoon  to  himself.  "Girls  never 
say  what  they  mean.  I'll  skate  with  her  every  chance 
I  can  get." 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  pretty  maid  would 
not  look  up  that  morning,  when,  skating  homeward 
from  Amsterdam,  she  became  convinced  that  a  great, 
burly  boy  was  coming  down  the  canal  toward  her. 

"Humph!  if  I  look  at  him,"  thought  Annie,  "I'll—" 

"Good-morrow,  Annie  Bouman!"  said  a  pleasant 
voice. 

[How  a  smile  brightens  a  girl's  face !] 

"Good-morrow,  Master  Hans!  I  am  right  glad  to 
meet  you." 

[How  a  smile  brightens  a  boy's  face !] 

"Good-morrow  again,  Annie!  There  has  been  a  great 
change  at  our  house  since  you  left." 

"How  so  ?"  she  exclaimed,  opening  her  eyes  very  wide. 


GLIMPSES  299 

Hans,  who  had  been  in  a  great  hurry,  and  rather 
moody,  grew  talkative,  and  quite  at  leisure,  in  Annie's 
sunshine.  Turning  about,  and  skating  slowly  with  her 
toward  Broek,  he  told  the  good  news  of  his  father.  Annie 
was  so  true  a  friend,  that  he  told  her  even  of  their  present 
distress, — of  how  money  was  needed,  and  how  everything 
depended  upon  his  obtaining  work;  and  he  could  find 
nothing  to  do  in  the  neighborhood. 

All  this  not  said  as  a  complaint,  but  just  because  she 
was  looking  at  him,  and  really  wished  to  know.  He 
could  not  speak  of  last  night's  bitter  disappointment; 
for  that  secret  was  not  wholly  his  own. 

"Good-by,  Annie!"  he  said  at  last.  "The  morning 
is  going  fast;  and  I  must  haste  to  Amsterdam,  and  sell 
these  skates.  Mother  must  have  money  at  once.  Before 
nightfall  I  shall  certainly  find  a  job  somewhere." 

"Sell  your  new  skates,  Hans!"  cried  Annie, — "y°u> 
the  best  skater  around  Broek !  Why,  the  race  is  coming 
off  in  five  days." 

"I  know  it,"  he  answered  resolutely.  "Good-by!  I 
shall  skate  home  again  on  the  old  wooden  ones." 

Such  a  bright  glance ! — so  different  from  Janzoon's 
ugly  grin !  And  Hans  was  off  like  an  arrow. 

"Hans,  come  back!"  she  called. 

Her  voice  changed  the  arrow  into  a  top.  Spinning 
around,  he  darted,  in  one  long,  leaning  sweep,  toward  her. 

"Then  you  really  are  going  to  sell  your  new  skates, 
if  you  can  find  a  customer." 


300  HANS   BRINKER 

"Of  course  I  am,"  he  replied,  looking  up  with  a  smile. 

"Well,  Hans,  if  you  are  going  to  sell  your  skates,"  said 
Annie,  somewhat  confused, — "I  mean  if  you — well,  I 
know  somebody  who  would  like  to  buy  them:  that's  all." 

"Not  Janzoon  Kolp  ?"  asked  Hans,  flushing. 

"Oh,  no  !"  she  pouted.    "He  is  not  one  of  my  friends." 

"But  you  know  him,"  persisted  Hans. 

Annie  laughed.  "Yes,  I  know  him;  and  it's  all  the 
worse  for  him  that  I  do.  Now  please,  Hans,  don't  ever 
talk  any  more  to  me  about  Janzoon.  I  hate  him!" 

"Hate  him  ?     You  hate  any  one,  Annie  ?" 

She  shook  her  head  saucily.  "Yes;  and  I'll  hate  you 
too,  if  you  persist  in  calling  him  one  of  my  friends.  You 
boys  may  like  him,  because  he  caught  the  greased  goose 
at  the  Kermis  last  summer,  and  climbed  the  pole  with 
his  great  ugly  body  tied  up  in  a  sack;  but  I  don't  care 
for  such  things.  I've  disliked  him  ever  since  I  saw  him 
try  to  push  his  little  sister  out  of  the  merry-go-round  at 
Amsterdam;  and  it's  no  secret  up  our  way  who  killed 
the  stork  on  your  mother's  roof.  But  we  mustn't  talk 
about  such  a  bad,  wicked  fellow.  Really,  Hans,  I  know 
somebody  who  would  be  glad  to  buy  your  skates.  You 
won't  get  half  a  price  for  them  in  Amsterdam.  Please 
give  them  to  me.  I'll  take  you  the  money  this  very 
afternoon." 

If  Annie  was  charming  even  when  she  said  "hate," 
there  was  no  withstanding  her  when  she  said  "please:" 
at  least,  Hans  found  it  to  be  so. 


GLIMPSES  301 

"Annie,"  he  said,  taking  off  the  skates,  and  rubbing 
them  carefully  with  a  snarl  of  twine  before  handing  them 
to  her,  "I  am  sorry  to  be  so  particular;  but,  if  your  friend 
should  not  want  them,  will  you  bring  them  back  to  me 
to-day  ?  I  must  buy  peat  and  meal  for  the  mother  early 
to-morrow  morning." 

"My  friend  will  want  them,"  laughed  Annie,  nodding 
gayly,  and  skating  off  at  the  top  of  her  speed. 

As  Hans  drew  forth  the  wooden  "runners"  from  his 
capacious  pockets,  and  fastened  them  on  as  best  he  could, 
he  did  not  hear  Annie  murmur,  "I  wish  I  had  not  been  so 
rude;  poor,  brave  Hans!  What  a  noble  boy  he  is!" 
And  as  Annie  skated  homeward,  filled  with  pleasant 
thoughts,  she  did  not  hear  Hans  say,  "I  grumbled  like 
a  bear.  But  bless  her!  some  girls  are  like  angels!" 

Perhaps  it  was  all  for  the  best.  One  cannot  be  ex- 
pected to  know  everything  that  is  going  on  in  the  world. 


XL 

LOOKING   FOR  WORK 

LUXURIES  unfit  us  for  returning  to  hardships  easily 
endured  before.  The  wooden  runners  squeaked  more 
than  ever.  It  was  as  much  as  Hans  could  do  to  get  on 
with  the  clumsy  old  things;  still  he  did  not  regret  that 
he  had  parted  with  his  beautiful  skates,  but  resolutely 
pushed  back  the  boyish  trouble  that  he  had  not  been 
able  to  keep  them  just  a  little  longer,  at  least,  until  after 
the  race. 

"Mother  surely  will  not  be  angry  with  me,"  he  thought, 
"for  selling  them  without  her  leave.  She  has  had  care 
enough  already.  It  will  be  full  time  to  speak  of  it  when 
I  take  home  the  money." 

Hans  went  up  and  down  the  streets  of  Amsterdam  that 
day,  looking  for  work.  He  succeeded  in  earning  a  few 
stivers  by  assisting  a  man  who  was  driving  a  train  of 
loaded  mules  into  the  city;  but  he  could  not  secure 
steady  employment  anywhere.  He  would  have  been 

glad  to  obtain  a  situation  as  porter  or  errand-boy;    but 

302 


LOOKING  FOR  WORK  303 

though  he  passed,  on  his  way,  many  a  loitering,  shuffling 
urchin,  laden  with  bundles,  there  was  no  place  for  him. 
Some  shopkeepers  had  just  supplied  themselves;  others 
needed  a  trimmer,  more  lightly-built  fellow  (they  meant 
better  dressed,  but  did  not  choose  to  say  so);  others 
told  him  to  call  again  in  a  month  or  two,  when  the  canals 
would  probably  be  broken  up;  and  many  shook  their 
heads  at  him  without  saying  a  word. 

At  the  factories  he  met  with  no  better  luck.  It  seemed 
to  him,  that  in  those  great  buildings,  turning  out  re- 
spectively such  tremendous  quantities  of  woollen,  cotton 
and  linen  stuffs,  such  world-renowned  dyes  and  paints, 
such  precious  diamonds  cut  from  the  rough,  such  supplies 
of  meal,  of  bricks,  of  glass  and  china, — that  in  at  least 
one  of  these,  a  strong-armed  boy,  able  and  eager  to  work, 
could  find  something  to  do.  But  no,  nearly  the  same 
answer  met  him  everywhere,  "No  need  of  more  hands 
just  now.  If  he  had  called  before  Nicholas  Day,  they 
might  have  given  him  a  job,  as  they  were  hurried  then; 
but  at  present  they  had  more  boys  than  they  needed." 
Hans  wished  they  could  see,  just  for  a  moment,  his 
mother  and  Gretel.  He  did  not  know  how  the  anxiety 
of  both  looked  out  from  his  eyes,  and  how,  more  than 
once,  the  gruffest  denials  were  uttered  with  an  uncom- 
fortable consciousness  that  the  lad  ought  not  to  be  turned 
away.  Certain  fathers,  when  they  went  home  that  night, 
spoke  more  kindly  than  usual  to  their  own  youngsters, 
from  memory  of  a  frank  young  face  saddened  at  their 


3o4  HANS  BRINKER 

words;  and,  before  morning,  one  man  actually  resolved, 
that,  if  the  Broek  boy  came  in  again,  he  would  instruct 
his  head  man  Blankert  to  set  him  at  something. 

But  Hans  knew  nothing  of  all  this.  Toward  sundown 
he  started  on  his  return  to  Broek,  uncertain  whether  the 
strange,  choking  sensation  in  his  throat  arose  from  dis- 
couragement, or  resolution.  There  was  one  more  chance. 
Mynheer  van  Holp  might  have  returned  by  this  time. 
Master  Peter,  it  was  reported,  had  gone  to  Haarlem  to 
attend  to  something  connected  with  the  great  skating- 
race.  Still  Hans  would  go  and  try. 

Fortunately  Peter  had  returned  early  that  morning. 
He  was  at  home  when  Hans  reached  there,  and  was  just 
about  starting  for  the  Brinker  cottage. 

"Ah,  Hans!"  he  cried  as  the  weary  boy  approached 
the  door.  "You  are  the  very  one  I  wished  to  see.  Come 
in,  and  warm  yourself." 

After  tugging  at  his  well-worn  hat,  which  always 
would  stick  to  his  head  when  he  was  embarrassed,  Hans 
knelt  down, — not  by  way  of  making  a  new  style  of  Orien- 
tal salute,  nor  to  worship  the  goddess  of  cleanliness  who 
presided  there,  but  because  his  heavy  shoes  would  have 
filled  the  soul  of  a  Broek  housewife  with  horror.  When 
their  owner  stepped  softly  into  the  house,  they  were 
left  outside  to  act  as  sentinels  until  his  return. 

Hans  left  the  Van  Holp  mansion  with  a  lightened  heart. 
Peter  had  brought  word  from  Haarlem  that  young 


LOOKING  FOR  WORK  305 

Brinker  was  to  commence  working  upon  the  summer- 
house  doors  immediately.  There  was  a  comfortable 
workshop  on  the  place;  and  it  was  to  be  at  his  service 
until  the  carving  was  done. 

Peter  did  not  tell  Hans  that  he  had  skated  all  the  way 
to  Haarlem  for  the  purpose  of  arranging  this  plan  with 
Mynheer  van  Holp.  It  was  enough  for  him  to  see  the 
glad,  eager  look  rise  on  young  Blinker's  face. 

"I  think  I  can  do  it,"  said  Hans,  "though  I  have  never 
learned  the  trade." 

"I  am  sure  you  can,"  responded  Peter,  heartily.  "You 
will  find  every  tool  you  require  in  the  workshop.  It  is 
nearly  hidden  yonder  by  that  wall  of  twigs.  In  summer, 
when  the  hedge  is  green,  one  cannot  see  the  shop  from 
here  at  all.  How  is  your  father  to-day  ?" 

"Better,  mynheer:   he  improves  every  hour." 

"It  is  the  most  astonishing  thing  I  ever  heard  of. 
That  gruff  old  doctor  is  a  great  fellow,  after  all." 

"Ah,  mynheer!"  said  Hans,  warmly,  "he  is  more 
than  great:  he  is  good.  But  for  the  meester's  kind  heart 
and  great  skill,  my  poor  father  would  yet  be  in  the  dark. 
I  think,  mynheer,"  he  added  with  kindling  eyes,  "sur- 
gery is  the  very  noblest  science  in  the  world." 

Peter  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Very  noble  it  may  be, 
but  not  quite  to  my  taste.  This  Dr.  Boekman  certainly 
has  skill.  As  for  his  heart — defend  me  from  such  hearts 
as  his!" 

"Why  do  you  say  so,  mynheer?"  asked  Hans. 


306  HANS   BRINKER 

Just  then  a  lady  slowly  entered  from  an  adjoining 
apartment.  It  was  Mevrouw  van  Holp,  arrayed  in  the 
grandest  of  caps,  and  the  longest  of  satin  aprons,  ruffled 
with  lace.  She  nodded  placidly  as  Hans  stepped  back 
from  the  fire,  bowing  as  well  as  he  knew  how. 

Peter  at  once  drew  a  high-backed  oaken  chair  toward 
the  fire;  and  the  lady  seated  herself.  There  was  a  block 
of  cork  on  each  side  of  the  chimney-place.  One  of  these 
he  placed  under  his  mother's  feet. 

Hans  turned  to  go. 

"Wait  a  moment,  if  you  please,  young  man,"  said  the 
lady.  "I  accidentally  overheard  you  and  my  son  speak- 
ing, I  think,  of  my  friend  Dr.  Boekman.  You  are  right, 
young  man.  Dr.  Boekman  has  a  very  kind  heart. — 
You  perceive,  Peter,  we  may  be  quite  mistaken  in  judging 
of  persons  solely  by  their  manners;  though  a  courteous 
deportment  is  by  no  means  to  be  despised." 

"I  intended  no  disrespect,  mother,"  said  Peter;  "but 
surely  one  has  no  right  to  go  growling  and  snarling  through 
the  world  as  they  say  he  does." 

'They  say/  Ah,  Peter!  'they'  means  everybody 
or  nobody.  Surgeon  Boekman  has  had  a  great  sorrow. 
Many  years  ago  he  lost  his  only  child,  under  very  pain- 
ful circumstances, — a  fine  lad,  except  that  he  was  a 
thought  too  hasty  and  high-spirited.  Before  then, 
Gerard  Boekman  was  one  of  the  most  agreeable  gentle- 
men I  ever  knew." 

So  saying,  Mevrouw  van  Holp,  looking  kindly  upon 


LOOKING   FOR  WORK  307 

the  two  boys,  arose  and  left  the  room  with  the  same 
dignity  with  which  she  had  entered. 

Peter,  only  half  convinced,  muttered  something  about 
"the  sin  of  allowing  sorrow  to  turn  all  one's  honey  into 
gall,"  as  he  conducted  his  visitor  to  the  narrow  side-door. 
Before  they  parted,  he  advised  Hans  to  keep  himself  in 
good  skating  order;  "for,"  he  added,  "now  that  your 
father  is  all  right,  you  will  be  in  fine  spirits  for  the  race. 
That  will  be  the  prettiest  skating-show  ever  seen  in  this 
part  of  the  world.  Everybody  is  talking  of  it;  you  are 
to  try  for  the  prize,  remember." 

"I  shall  not  be  in  the  race,  mynheer,"  said  Hans, 
looking  down. 

"Not  be  in  the  race!  Why  not,  indeed?"  And  im- 
mediately Peter's  thoughts  swept  on  a  full  tide  of  sus- 
picion toward  Carl  Schummel. 

"Because  I  cannot,  mynheer,"  answered  Hans,  as  he 
bent  to  slip  his  feet  into  his  big  shoes. 

Something  in  the  boy's  manner  warned  Peter  that  it 
would  be  no  kindness  to  press  the  matter  further.  He 
bade  Hans  "good-by,"  and  stood  thoughtfully  watching 
him  as  he  walked  away. 

In  a  minute,  Peter  called  out. 

"Hans  Brinker!" 

"Yes,  mynheer." 

"I'll  take  back  all  I  said  about  Dr.  Boekman." 

"Yes,  mynheer." 

Both  were  laughing.     But  Peter's  smile  changed  to  a 


3o8  HANS   BRINKER 

look  of  puzzled  surprise  when  he  saw  Hans  kneel  down 
by  the  canal,  and  put  on  the  wooden  skates. 

"Very  queer !"  muttered  Peter,  shaking  his  head  as 
he  turned  to  go  into  the  house.  "Why  in  the  world 
don't  the  boy  wear  his  new  ones  ?" 


XLI 

THE   FAIRY  GODMOTHER 

THE  sun  had  gone  down  quite  out  of  sight,  when  our 
hero,  with  a  happy  heart,  but  something  like  a  sneer  on 
his  countenance  as  he  jerked  off  the  wooden  "runners," 
trudged  hopefully  toward  the  tiny  hut-like  building, 
known  of  old  as  the  "Idiot's  Cottage." 

Duller  eyes  than  his  would  have  discerned  two  slight 
figures  moving  near  the  doorway. 

That  gray,  well-patched  jacket,  and  the  dull  blue 
skirt,  covered  with  an  apron  of  still  duller  blue;  that 
faded,  close-fitting  cap;  and  those  quick  little  feet  in 
their  great  boat-like  shoes, — they  were  Gretel's,  of  course. 
He  would  have  known  them  anywhere. 

That  bright,  coquettish,  red  jacket,  with  its  pretty 
skirt  bordered  with  black;  that  graceful  cap  bobbing 
over  the  gold  ear-rings;  that  dainty  apron;  and  those 
snug  leather  shoes  that  seemed  to  have  grown  with  the 
feet, — why,  if  the  Pope  of  Rome  had  sent  them  to  him 
by  express,  Hans  could  have  sworn  they  were  Annie's. 

The  two  girls  were  slowly  pacing  up  and  down  in 

309 


310  HANS   BRINKER 

front  of  the  cottage.  Their  arms  were  intertwined,  of 
course;  and  their  heads  were  nodding  and  shaking  as 
emphatically  as  if  all  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom  were 
under  discussion. 

With  a  joyous  shout  Hans  hastened  toward  them. 

"Huzza,  girls,  I've  found  work!" 

This  brought  his  mother  to  the  cottage-door. 

She,  too,  had  pleasant  tidings.  The  father  was  still 
improving.  He  had  been  sitting  up  nearly  all  day,  and 
was  now  sleeping,  as  Dame  Brinker  declared,  "just  as 
quiet  as  a  lamb." 

"It  is  my  turn  now,  Hans,"  said  Annie,  drawing  him 
aside,  after  he  had  told  his  mother  the  good  word  from 
Mynheer  van  Holp.  "Your  skates  are  sold,  and  here's 
the  money." 

"Seven  guilders!"  cried  Hans,  counting  the  pieces  in 
astonishment:  "why,  that  is  three  times  as  much  as  I 
paid  for  them." 

"I  cannot  help  that,"  said  Annie.  "If  the  buyer  knew 
no  better,  it  is  not  our  fault." 

Hans  looked  up  quickly. 

"O  Annie!" 

"O  Hans!"  she  mimicked,  pursing  her  lips,  and  try- 
ing to  look  desperately  wicked  and  unprincipled. 

"Now,  Annie,  I  know  you  would  never  mean  that ! 
You  must  return  some  of  this  money." 

"But  I'll  not  do  any  such  thing,"  insisted  Annie. 
"They're  sold;  and  that's  the  end  of  it."  Then,  seeing 


THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER  311 

that  he  looked  really  pained,  she  added  in  a  lower 
tone, — 

"Will  you  believe  me,  Hans,  when  I  say  that  there 
has  been  no  mistake,  that  the  person  who  bought  your 
skates  insisted  upon  paying  seven  guilders  for  them?" 

"I  will,"  he  answered;  and  the  light  from  his  clear 
blue  eyes  seemed  to  settle  and  sparkle  under  Annie's 
lashes. 

Dame  Brinker  was  delighted  at  the  sight  of  so  much 
silver;  but,  when  she  learned  that  Hans  had  parted 
with  his  treasures  to  obtain  it,  she  sighed  as  she  ex- 
claimed,— 

"Bless  thee,  child  !    That  will  be  a  sore  loss  for  thee !" 

"Here,  mother,"  said  the  boy,  plunging  his  hands  far 
into  his  pocket, — "here  is  more;  we  shall  be  rich  if  we 
keep  on." 

"Ay,  indeed,"  she  answered,  eagerly  reaching  forth 
her  hand;  then,  lowering  her  voice,  added,  "We  should 
be  rich,  but  for  that  Jan  Kamphuisen.  He  was  at  the 
willow-tree  years  ago,  Hans,  depend  upon  it!" 

"Indeed,  it  seems  likely,"  sighed  Hans.  "Well, 
mother,  we  must  give  up  the  money  bravely.  It  is  cer- 
tainly gone:  the  father  has  told  us  all  he  knows.  Let 
us  think  no  more  about  it." 

"That's  easy  saying,  Hans.  I  shall  try;  but  it's  hard, 
and  my  poor  man  wanting  so  many  comforts.  Bless  me ! 
How  girls  fly  about !  They  were  here  but  this  instant. 
Where  did  they  run  to  ?" 


312  HANS   DRINKER 

"They  slipped  behind  the  cottage,"  said  Hans,  "like 
enough  to  hide  from  us.  Hist !  I'll  catch  them  for  you. 
They  both  can  move  quicker  and  softer  than  yonder 
rabbit;  but  I'll  give  them  a  good  start  first." 

"Why,  there  is  a  rabbit,  sure  enough.  Hold,  Hans! 
the  poor  thing  must  have  been  in  sore  need  to  venture 
from  its  burrow  this  bitter  weather.  I'll  get  a  few  crumbs 
for  it  within." 

So  saying,  the  good  woman  bustled  into  the  cottage. 
She  soon  came  out  again;  but  Hans  had  forgotten  to 
wait,  and  the  rabbit,  after  taking  a  cool  survey  of  the 
premises,  had  scampered  off  to  unknown  quarters.  Turn- 
ing the  corner  of  the  cottage,  Dame  Brinker  came  upon 
the  children.  Hans  and  Gretel  were  standing  before 
Annie,  who  was  seated  carelessly  upon  a  stump. 

"That  is  as  good  as  a  picture!"  cried  Dame  Brinker, 
halting  in  admiration  of  the  group.  "Many  a  painting 
have  I  seen  at  the  grand  house  at  Heidelberg  not  a  whit 
prettier.  My  two  are  rough  chubs,  Annie;  but  you  look 
like  a  fairy." 

"Do  I?"  laughed  Annie,  sparkling  with  animation. 
"Well,  then,  Gretel  and  Hans,  imagine  I'm  your  god- 
mother, just  paying  you  a  visit.  Now,  I'll  grant  you 
each  a  wish.  What  will  you  have,  Master  Hans  ?" 

A  shade  of  earnestness  passed  over  Annie's  face  as 
she  looked  up  at  him;  perhaps  it  was  because  she  wished 
from  the  depths  of  her  heart  that  for  once  she  could  have 
a  fairy's  power. 


THE   FAIRY  GODMOTHER  313 

Something  whispered  to  Hans  that  for  the  moment 
she  was  more  than  mortal. 

"I  wish,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "I  could  find  something 
I  was  searching  for  last  night/' 

Gretel  laughed  merrily.  Dame  Brinker  moaned, 
"Shame  on  you,  Hans!"  and  passed  wearily  into  the 
cottage. 

The  fairy  godmother  sprang  up,  and  stamped  her  foot 
three  times. 

"Thou  shalt  have  thy  wish,"  said  she,  "let  them  say 
what  they  will."  Then,  with  playful  solemnity,  she  put 
her  hand  into  her  apron-pocket,  and  drew  forth  a  large 
glass  bead.  "Bury  this,"  said  she,  giving  it  to  Hans, 
"where  I  have  stamped,  and  ere  moonrise  thy  wish  shall 
be  granted." 

Gretel  laughed  more  merrily  than  ever. 

The  godmother  pretended  great  displeasure. 

"Naughty  child!"  said  she,  scowling  terribly.  "In 
punishment  for  laughing  at  a  fairy,  thy  wish  shall  not  be 
granted." 

"Ha!"  cried  Gretel,  in  high  glee.  "Better  wait  till 
you're  asked,  godmother.  I  haven't  made  any  wish!" 

Annie  acted  her  part  well.  Never  smiling  through  all 
their  merry  laughter,  she  stalked  away,  the  embodiment 
of  offended  dignity. 

"Good-night,  fairy!"  they  cried  again  and  again. 

"Good-night,  mortals!"  she  called  out  at  last  as  she 
sprang  over  a  frozen  ditch,  and  ran  toward  her  home. 


3H  HANS  BRINKER 

"Oh  !  isn't  she — just  like  flowers,  so  sweet  and  lovely  !" 
cried  Gretel,  looking  after  her  in  great  admiration.  "And 
to  think  how  many  days  she  stays  in  that  dark  room  with 
her  grandmother.  See !  she  has  stopped.  Why,  brother 
Hans  !  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"Wait  and  see!"  answered  Hans,  as  he  plunged  into 
the  cottage,  and  came  out  again,  all  in  an  instant,  bear- 
ing the  spade  and  ysbreeker  in  his  hands.  "Call  Annie! 
I'm  going  to  bury  my  magic  bead  !" 

RafF  Brinker  still  slept  soundly.  His  wife  took  a  small 
block  of  peat  from  her  nearly  exhausted  store,  and  put 
it  upon  the  embers.  Then,  opening  the  door,  she  called 
gently,— 

"Come  in,  children !" 

"Mother,  mother!    See  here!"  shouted  Hans. 

"Holy  St.  Bavon!"  exclaimed  the  dame,  springing 
over  the  doorstep.  "What  has  come  to  the  boy?" 

"Come  quick,  mother,"  he  cried,  in  great  excitement, 
working  with  all  his  might,  and  driving  in  the  ysbreeker 
at  each  word.  "Don't  you  see?  This  is  the  spot, — 
right  here  on  the  south  side  of  the  stump.  Why  didn't 
we  think  of  it  last  night  ?  The  stump  is  the  old  willow- 
tree, — the  one  you  cut  down  last  spring,  because  it 
shaded  the  potatoes.  That  little  tree  wasn't  here  when 
father-  Huzza!" 

Dame  Brinker  could  not  speak.  She  dropped  on  her 
knees  beside  Hans  just  in  time  to  see  him  drag  forth — 
ike  old  stone  pot! 


J 


FINDING  THE   LONG-LOST  TREASURE 


THE  FAIRY  GODMOTHER  315 

He  thrust  in  his  hand,  and  took  out — a  piece  of  brick, 
then  another,  then  another,  then  the  stocking  and  the 
pouch,  black  and  mouldy,  but  filled  with  the  long-lost 
treasure. 

Such  a  time  !  Such  laughing  !  such  crying !  such  count- 
ing, after  they  went  into  the  cottage.  It  was  a  wonder 
that  Raff  did  not  waken.  His  dreams  were  pleasant, 
however;  for  he  smiled  in  his  sleep. 

Dame  Brinker  and  her  children  had  a  fine  supper,  I 
can  assure  you.  No  need  of  saving  the  delicacies  now. 

"We'll  buy  the  father  some  nice,  fresh  things  to- 
morrow," said  the  dame,  as  she  brought  forth  the  meat, 
wine,  bread  and  jelly  that  Hilda  had  sent,  and  placed 
them  on  the  clean  pine  table.  "Ah,  but  the  good  man 
shall  have  comforts  enough  and  to  spare,  so  he  shall, — 
bless  him !  Is  it  not  so,  Hans  ?  Sit  by,  children,  sit  by." 

That  night  Annie  fell  asleep,  wondering  whether  it 
was  a  knife  Hans  had  lost,  and  thinking  how  funny  it 
would  be  if  he  should  find  it,  after  all. 

Hans  had  scarce  closed  his  eyes,  before  he  found  him- 
self trudging  through  a  thicket:  pots  of  gold  were  lying 
all  around;  and  watches  and  skates  and  glittering  beads 
were  swinging  from  every  branch. 

Strange  to  say,  each  tree,  as  he  approached  it,  changed 
into  a  stump;  and  on  the  stump  sat  the  prettiest  fairy 
imaginable  clad  in  a  scarlet  jacket  and  blue  petticoat.  . 


XLII 

THE   MYSTERIOUS   WATCH 

SOMETHING  else  than  the  missing  guilders  was  brought 
to  light  on  the  day  of  the  fairy  godmother's  visit.  This 
was  the  story  of  the  watch,  that  for  ten  long  years  had 
been  so  jealously  guarded  by  Raff's  faithful  vrouw, 
Through  many  an  hour  of  sore  temptation  she  had  dreaded 
almost  to  look  upon  it,  lest  she  might  be  tempted  to  dis- 
obey her  husband's  request.  It  had  been  hard  to  see  her 
children  hungry,  and  to  know  that  the  watch,  if  sold, 
would  enable  the  roses  to  bloom  in  their  cheeks  again. 
"But  nay,"  she  would  exclaim,  "Meitje  Brinker  is  not 
one  to  forget  her  man's  last  bidding,  come  what  may." 

"Take  good  care  of  this,  mine  vrouw"  he  had  said  as 
he  handed  it  to  her:  that  was  all.  No  explanation  fol- 
lowed; for  the  words  were  scarcely  spoken,  when  one  of 
his  fellow-workmen  rushed  into  the  cottage,  crying, 
"Come,  man!  The  waters  are  rising!  You're  wanted 
on  the  dikes." 

Raff  had  started  at  once;   and  that,  as  Dame  Brinker 

316 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  WATCH  317 

has  already  told  you,  was  the  last  she  saw  of  him  in  his 
right  mind. 

On  the  day  when  Hans  was  in  Amsterdam,  looking 
for  work,  and  Gretel,  after  performing  her  household 
labors,  was  wandering  about  in  search  of  chips,  twigs, 
anything  that  could  be  burned,  Dame  Brinker,  with  sup- 
pressed excitement,  had  laid  the  watch  in  her  husband's 
hand. 

"It  wasn't  in  reason,"  as  she  afterward  said  to  Hans, 
"to  wait  any  longer,  when  a  word  from  the  father  would 
settle  all.  No  woman  living  but  would  want  to  know 
how  he  came  by  that  watch."  Raff  Brinker  turned  the 
bright,  polished  thing  over  and  over  in  his  hand;  then 
he  examined  the  bit  of  smoothly  ironed  black  ribbon 
fastened  to  it:  he  seemed  hardly  to  recognize  it.  At 
last  he  said,  "Ah,  I  remember  this!  Why,  you've  been 
rubbing  it,  vrouzv,  till  it  shines  like  a  new  guilder." 

"Ay,"  said  Dame  Brinker,  nodding  her  head  com- 
placently. 

Raff  looked  at  it  again.  "Poor  boy!"  he  murmured, 
then  fell  into  a  brown  study. 

This  was  too  much  for  the  dame.  "Poor  boy!"  she 
echoed  somewhat  tartly.  "What  do  you  think  I'm  stand- 
ing here  for,  Raff  Brinker,  and  my  spinning  waiting,  if  not 
to  hear  more  than  that  ?" 

"I  told  ye  all  long  since,"  said  Raff,  positively,  as  he 
looked  up  in  surprise. 

"Indeed,  and  you  never  did!"  retorted  the  vrouw. 


318  HANS  BRINKER 

"Well,  if  not,  since  it's  no  affair  of  ours,  we'll  say  no 
more  about  it,"  said  Raff,  shaking  his  head  sadly.  "Like 
enough,  while  I've  been  dead  on  the  earth,  all  this  time, 
the  poor  boy's  died,  and  been  in  heaven.  He  looked  near 
enough  to  it,  poor  lad!" 

"  Raff  Drinker !  If  you're  going  to  treat  me  this  way, 
and  I  nursing  you  and  bearing  with  you  since  I  was 
twenty-two  years  old,  it's  a  shame;  ay,  and  a  disgrace!" 
cried  the  vrouzu,  growing  quite  red,  and  scant  of  breath. 

Raff's  voice  was  feeble  yet:  "Treat  you  what  way, 
Meitje?" 

"What  way?"  said  Dame  Brinker,  mimicking  his 
voice  and  manner, — "what  way  ?  Why,  just  as  every 
woman  in  the  world  is  treated  after  she's  stood  by  a 
man  through  the  worst,  like  a — " 

"Meitje!" 

Raff  was  leaning  forward  with  outstretched  arms. 
His  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

In  an  instant  Dame  Brinker  was  at  his  feet,  clasping 
his  hand  in  hers. 

"Oh,  what  have  I  done !  Made  my  good  man  cry, 
and  he  not  back  with  me  four  days !  Look  up,  Raff ! 
Nay,  Raff,  my  own  boy,  I'm  sorry  I  hurt  thee.  It's  hard 
not  to  be  told  about  the  watch,  after  waiting  ten  years 
to  know;  but  I'll  ask  thee  no  more,  Raff.  Here,  we'll 
put  the  thing  away  that's  made  the  first  trouble  between 
us,  after  God  just  giving  thee  back  to  me." 

"I  was  a  fool  to  cry,  Meitje,"  he  said,  kissing  her; 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  WATCH  319 

"and  it's  no  more  than  right  ye  should  know  the  truth. 
But  it  seemed  like  it  might  be  telling  the  secrets  of  the 
dead  to  talk  about  the  matter." 

"Is  the  man — the  lad — thou  wert  talking  of  dead, 
think  thee?"  asked  the  vrouw,  hiding  the  watch  in  her 
hand,  but  seating  herself  expectantly  on  the  end  of  his 
long  foot-bench. 

"It's  hard  telling,"  he  answered. 

"Was  he  so  sick,  Raff?" 

"No,  not  sick,  I  may  say,  but  troubled,  vrouw, — very 
troubled." 

"Had  he  done  any  wrong,  think  ye  ?"  she  asked,  lower- 
ing her  voice. 

Raff  nodded. 

"Murder?"  whispered  the  wife,  not  daring  to  look  up. 

"He  said  it  was  like  to  that,  indeed." 

"O  Raff!  you  frighten  me.  Tell  me  more — you  speak 
so  strange;  and  you  tremble.  I  must  know  all." 

"If  I  tremble,  mine  vrouw,  it  must  be  from  the  fever. 
There  is  no  guilt  on  my  soul,  thank  God !" 

"Take  a  sip  of  this  wine,  Raff.  There,  now  you  are 
better.  It  was  like  to  a  crime,  you  were  saying?" 

"Ay,  Meitje, — like  to  murder:  that  he  told  me  him- 
self. But  I'll  never  believe  it.  A  likely  lad,  fresh  and 
honest-looking  as  our  own  youngster,  but  with  some- 
thing not  so  bold  and  straight  about  him." 

"Ay,  I  know,"  said  the  dame,  gently,  fearing  to  in- 
terrupt the  story. 


320  HANS  DRINKER 

"He  came  upon  me  quite  sudden,"  continued  Raff. 
"I  had  never  seen  his  face  before, — the  palest,  fright- 
enedest  face  that  ever  was.  He  caught  me  by  the  arm. 
'You  look  like  an  honest  man/  says  he." 

"Ay,  he  was  right  in  that,"  interrupted  the  dame, 
emphatically. 

Raff  looked  somewhat  bewildered. 

"Where  was  I,  mine  vrouw?" 

"The  lad  took  hold  of  your  arm,  Raff,"  she  said, 
gazing  at  him  anxiously. 

"Ay,  so.  The  words  come  awkward  to  me;  and  every- 
thing is  half  like  a  dream,  ye  see." 

"S-stut !  What  wonder,  poor  man  !"  sighed  the  dame, 
stroking  his  hand.  "If  ye  had  not  head  enough  for  a 
dozen,  the  wit  would  never  have  come  to  ye  again.  Well, 
the  lad  caught  ye  by  the  arm,  and  said  ye  looked  honest 
(well  he  might).  What  then  ?  Was  it  noontime  ?" 

"Nay,  before  daylight, — long  before  early  chimes." 

"It  was  the  same  day  you  were  hurt,"  said  the  dame. 
"I  know  it  seemed  you  went  to  your  work  in  the  middle  of 
the  night.  You  left  off  where  he  caught  your  arm,  Raff. 

"Yes,"  resumed  her  husband;  "and  I  can  see  his  face 
this  minute, — so  white  and  wild  looking.  'Take  me  down 
the  river  a  way/  says  he.  I  was  working  then,  you'll 
remember,  far  down  on  the  line,  across  from  Amsterdam. 
I  told  him  I  was  no  boatman.  'It's  an  affair  of  life  and 
death/  says  he,  'take  me  on  a  few  miles.  Yonder  skiff 
is  not  locked;  but  it  may  be  a  poor  man's  boat  and  I'd 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  WATCH  321 

be  loath  to  rob  him.'  (The  words  might  differ  some, 
vrouw;  for  it's  all  like  a  dream.)  Well,  I  took  him  down, — 
it  might  be  six  or  eight  miles, — and  then  he  said  he  could 
run  the  rest  of  the  way  on  shore.  I  was  in  haste  to  get 
the  boat  back.  Before  he  jumped  out,  he  says,  sobbing- 
like,  'I  can  trust  you.  I've  done  a  thing — God  knows 
I  never  intended  it — but  the  man  is  dead.  I  must  fly 
from  Holland.'" 

"What  was  it,  did  he  say,  Raff?  Had  he  been  shoot- 
ing at  a  comrade,  like  they  do  down  at  the  University 
at  Gottingen  ?" 

"I  can't  recall  that.  Mayhap  he  told  me;  but  it's  all 
like  a  dream.  I  said  it  wasn't  for  me,  a  good  Hollander, 
to  cheat  the  laws  of  my  country  by  helping  him  off  that 
way.  But  he  kept  saying,  'God  knows  I  am  innocent!' 
and  looked  at  me  in  the  starlight  as  fair,  now,  and  clear- 
eyed  as  our  little  Hans  might — and  I  just  pulled  away 
faster." 

"It  must  have  been  Jan  Kamphuisen's  boat,"  remarked 
Dame  Brinker,  dryly:  "none  other  would  have  left  his 


oars  out." 


"Ay,  it  was  Jan's  boat,  sure  enough.  The  man  will 
be  coming  in  to  see  me  Sunday,  likely,  if  he's  heard;  and 
young  Hoogsvliet  too.  Where  was  I  ?" 

[It  was  lucky  the  dame  restrained  herself.  To  have 
spoken  at  all  of  Jan,  after  the  last  night's  cruel  disap- 
pointment, would  have  been  to  have  let  out  more  sorrow 
and  suspicion  than  Raff  could  bear.] 


322  HANS   BRINKER 

"Where  were  you  ?  Why,  not  very  far,  forsooth.  The 
lad  hadn't  yet  given  ye  the  watch.  Alack !  I  misgive 
whether  he  came  by  it  honestly." 

"Why,  vrouw!"  exclaimed  Raff,  in  an  injured  tone. 
"He  was  dressed  soft  and  fine  as  the  prince  himself.  The 
watch  was  his  own,  clear  enough." 

"How  came  he  to  give  it  up  ?"  asked  the  dame,  look- 
ing uneasily  at  the  fire;  for  it  needed  another  block  of 
peat. 

"I  told  ye  just  now,"  he  answered  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"Tell  me  again,"  said  Dame  Brinker,  wisely  patient. 

"Well,  just  before  jumping  from  the  boat,  he  says, 
handing  me  the  watch,  'I'm  flying  from  my  country,  as 
I  never  thought  I  could.  I  trust  you,  because  you  look 
honest.  Will  you  take  this  to  my  father, — not  to-day, 
but  in  a  week,  and  tell  him  his  unhappy  boy  sent  it;  and 
tell  him,  if  ever  the  time  comes  that  he  wants  me  to 
come  back  to  him,  I'll  brave  everything,  and  come.  Tell 
him  to  send  a  letter  to — to — '  There,  the  rest  is  all  gone 
from  me.  I  cant  remember  where  the  letter  was  to  go. 
Poor  lad,  poor  lad!"  resumed  Raff,  sorrowfully,  taking 
the  watch  from  his  vrouw's  lap  as  he  spoke;  "and  it's 
never  been  sent  to  his  father  to  this  day." 

"I'll  take  it,  Raff,  never  fear,  the  moment  Gretel  gets 
back.  She  will  be  in  soon.  What  was  the  father's  name, 
did  you  say  ?  Where  were  you  to  find  him  ?" 

"Alack!"  answered  Raff,  speaking  very  slowly,  "it's 
all  slipped  me.  I  can  see  the  lad's  face,  and  his  great  eyes 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  WATCH  323 

just  as  plain  !  and  I  remember  his  opening  the  watch,  and 
snatching  something  from  it,  and  kissing  it.  But  no 
more.  All  the  rest  whirls  past  me.  There's  a  sound  like 
rushing  waters  comes  over  me  when  I  try  to  think." 

"Ay.  That's  plain  to  see,  Raff;  but  I've  had  the  same 
feeling  after  a  fever.  You're  tired  now;  I  must  get  ye 
straight  on  the  bed  again.  Where  is  the  child,  I  wonder  ?" 

Dame  Brinker  opened  the  door,  and  called,  "Gretel, 
Gretel?" 

"Stand  aside,  vrouw"  said  Raff,  feebly,  as  he  leaned 
forward,  and  endeavored  to  look  out  upon  the  bare  land- 
scape. "I've  half  a  mind  to  stand  beyond  the  door  just 


once." 


"Nay,  nay,"  she  laughed.  "I'll  tell  the  meester  how 
ye  tease  and  fidget  and  bother  to  be  let  out  in  the  air; 
and,  if  he  says  it,  I'll  bundle  ye  warm  to-morrow,  and 
give  ye  a  turn  on  your  feet.  But  I'm  freezing  you  with 
this  door  open.  I  declare,  if  there  isn't  Gretel,  with  her 
apron  full,  skating  on  the  canal  like  wild.  Why,  man!" 
she  continued  almost  in  a  scream,  as  she  slammed  the 
door,  "thou'rt  walking  to  the  bed  without  my  touching 
thee!  Thou'lt  fall!" 

The  dame's  "thee"  proved  her  mingled  fear  and  de- 
light, even  more  than  the  rush  which  she  made  toward 
her  husband.  Soon  he  was  comfortably  settled  under 
the  new  cover,  declaring,  as  his  vrouw  tucked  him  in 
snug  and  warm,  that  it  was  the  last  daylight  that  should 
see  him  abed. 


324  HANS  BRINKER 

"Ay!  I  can  hope  it  myself,"  laughed  Dame  Brinker, 
"now  you  have  been  frisking  about  at  that  rate."  As 
Raff  closed  his  eyes,  the  dame  hastened  to  revive  her 
fire,  or,  rather,  to  dull  it;  for  Dutch  peat  is  like  a  Dutch- 
man, slow  to  kindle,  but  very  good  at  a  blaze  when  once 
started.  Then,  putting  her  neglected  spinning-wheel 
away,  she  drew  forth  her  knitting  from  some  invisible 
pocket,  and  seated  herself  by  the  bedside. 

"If  you  could  remember  that  man's  name,  Raff,"  she 
began  cautiously,  "I  might  take  the  watch  to  him  while 
you're  sleeping:  Gretel  can't  but  be  in  soon." 

Raff  tried  to  think,  but  in  vain. 

"Could  it  be  Boomphoffen?"  suggested  the  dame. 
"I've  heard  how  they've  had  two  sons  turn  out  bad, — 
Gerard  and  Lambert." 

"It  might  be,"  said  Raff.  "Look  if  there's  letters  on 
the  watch:  that'll  guide  us  some." 

"Bless  thee,  man!"  cried  the  happy  dame,  eagerly 
lifting  the  watch:  "why,  thou'rt  sharper  than  ever! 
Sure  enough.  Here's  letters, — L.  J.  B.  That's  Lambert 
Boomphoffen,  you  may  depend.  What  the  J.  is  for,  I 
can't  say;  but  they  used  to  be  grand  kind  o'  people, 
high-feathered  as  fancy  fowl, — just  the  kind  to  give  their 
children  all  double  names,  which  isn't  Scripture, 
anyway." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  vrouw.  Seems  to  me, 
there's  long  mixed  names  in  the  Holy  Book,  hard  enough 
to  make  out.  But  you've  got  the  right  guess  at  a  jump. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  WATCH  325 

It  was  your  way  always,"  said  Raff,  closing  his  eyes. 
"Take  the  watch  to  Boompkinks,  and  try." 

"Not  Boompkinks!  I  know  no  such  name:  it's 
Boomphoffen." 

"Ay,  take  it  there." 

"Take  it  there,  man  !  Why,  the  whole  brood  of  'em's 
been  gone  to  America  these  four  years.  But  go  to  sleep, 
Raff:  you  look  pale,  and  out  of  strength.  It'll  all  come 
to  you  what's  best  to  do,  in  the  morning." 

"So,  Mistress  Gretel !  here  you  are  at  last!" 

Before  Raff  awoke  that  evening,  the  fairy  godmother, 
as  we  know,  had  been  at  the  cottage,  the  guilders  were 
once  more  safely  locked  in  the  big  chest,  and  Dame 
Brinker  and  the  children  were  faring  finely  on  meat 
and  white  bread  and  wine. 

So  the  mother,  in  the  joy  of  her  heart,  told  them  the 
story  of  the  watch  as  far  as  she  deemed  it  prudent  to 
divulge  it.  It  was  no  more  than  fair,  she  thought,  that 
the  poor  things  should  know,  after  keeping  the  secret 
so  safe  ever  since  they  had  been  old  enough  to  know 
anything. 


XLIII 

A  DISCOVERY 

THE  next  sun  brought  a  busy  day  to  the  Drinkers. 
In  the  first  place,  the  news  of  the  thousand  guilders  had, 
of  course,  to  be  told  to  the  father.  Such  tidings  as  that 
surely  could  not  harm  him.  Then,  while  Gretel  was  dili- 
gently obeying  her  mother's  injunction  to  "clean  the 
place  fresh  as  a  new  brewing,"  Hans  and  the  dame  sal- 
lied forth  to  revel  in  the  purchasing  of  peat  and 
provisions. 

Hans  was  careless  and  contented;  the  dame  was 
filled  with  delightful  anxieties  caused  by  the  unreason- 
able demands  of  ten  thousand  guilders'  worth  of  new 
wants  that  had  sprung  up  like  mushrooms  in  a  single 
night.  The  happy  woman  talked  so  largely  to  Hans  on 
their  way  to  Amsterdam,  and  brought  back  such  little 
bundles  after  all,  that  he  scratched  his  bewildered  head 
as  he  leaned  against  the  chimney-piece,  wondering 

whether,  "bigger  the  pouch,  tighter  the  string"  was  in 

326 


A  DISCOVERY  327 

Jacob  Cats,  and  therefore  true,  or  whether  he  had  dreamed 
it  when  he  lay  in  a  fever. 

"What  thinking  on,  Big-eyes  ?"  chirruped  his  mother, 
half-reading  his  thoughts  as  she  bustled  about,  prepar- 
ing the  dinner, — "what  thinking  on  ?  Why,  Raff,  would 
ye  believe  it  ?  the  child  thought  to  carry  half  Amsterdam 
back  on  his  head !  Bless  us !  he  would  have  bought  as 
much  coffee  as  would  have  filled  this  fire-pot.  'No, 
no,  my  lad  !'  says  I,  'no  time  for  leaks  when  the  ship  is 
rich  laden;'  and  then  how  he  stared! — ay,  just  as  he 
stares  this  minute. — Hoot,  lad  !  fly  around  a  mite.  Ye'll 
grow  to  the  chimney-place  with  your  staring  and  won- 
dering.— Now,  Raff,  here's  your  chair  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  where  it  should  be,  for  there's  a  MAN  to  the 
house  now:  I'd  say  it  to  the  king's  face.  Ay,  that's  the 
way;  lean  on  Hans:  there's  a  strong  staff  for  you  !  Grow- 
ing like  a  weed  too,  and  it  seems  only  yesterday  since 
he  was  toddling.  Sit  by,  my  man,  sit  by." 

"Can  you  call  to  mind,  vrouw"  said  Raff,  settling 
himself  cautiously  in  the  big  chair,  "the  wonderful 
music-box  that  cheered  your  working  in  the  big  house  at 
Heidelberg?" 

"Ay,  that  I  can!"  answered  the  dame.  "Three  turns 
of  a  brass  key,  and  the  witchy  thing  would  send  the 
music  fairly  running  up  and  down  one's  back:  I  re- 
member it  well.  But,  Raff"  (growing  solemn  in  an 
instant),  "you  would  never  throw  our  guilders  away 
for  a  thing  like  that  ?" 


328  HANS  BRINKER 

"No,  no !  not  I,  vrouw;  for  the  good  Lord  has  already 
given  me  a  music-box  without  pay." 

All  three  cast  quick,  frightened  glances  at  one  an- 
other and  at  Raff.  Were  his  wits  on  the  wing  again  ? 

"Ay,  and  a  music-box  that  fifty  pouchful  would  not 
buy  from  me,"  insisted  Raff.  "And  it's  set  going  by 
the  tyirn  of  a  mop-handle;  and  it  slips  and  glides  around 
the  room,  everywhere  in  a  flash,  carrying  the  music  about, 
till  you'd  swear  the  birds  were  back  again." 

"Holy  St.  Bavon!"  screeched  the  dame:  "what's 
in  the  man  ?" 

"Comfort  and  joy,  vrouw :  that's  what's  in  him  !  Ask 
Gretel,  ask  my  little  music-box  Gretel,  if  your  man  has 
lacked  comfort  and  joy  this  day." 

"Not  he,  mother,"  laughed  Gretel.  "He's  been  my 
music-box  too.  We  sang  together  half  the  time  you 
were  gone." 

"Ay,  so!"  said  the  dame,  greatly  relieved.  "Now, 
Hans,  you'll  never  get  through  with  a  piece  like  that; 
but  never  mind,  chick,  thou'st  had  a  long  fasting. — 
Here,  Gretel,  take  another  slice  of  the  sausage:  it'll 
put  blood  in  your  cheeks." 

"Oh,  oh,  mother!"  laughed  Gretel,  eagerly  holding 
forth  her  platter.  "Blood  don't  grow  in  girls'  cheeks: 
you  mean  roses. — Isn't  it  roses,  Hans  ?" 

While  Hans  was  hastily  swallowing  a  mammoth 
mouthful,  in  order  to  give  a  suitable  reply  to  this  poetic 
appeal,  Dame  Brinker  settled  the  matter  with  a  quick, — 


A  DISCOVERY  329 

"Well,  roses  or  blood,  it's  all  one  to  me,  so  the  red 
finds  its  way  to  your  sunny  face.  It's  enough  for  mother 
to  get  pale  and  weary-looking,  without — " 

"Hoot,  vrouw!"  spoke  up  Raff",  hastily.  "Thou'rt 
fresher  and  rosier  this  minute  than  both  our  chicks  put 
together." 

This  remark,  though  not  bearing  very  strong  testi- 
mony to  the  clearness  of  Raff's  newly  awakened  intellect, 
nevertheless  afforded  the  dame  intense  satisfaction; 
the  meal,  accordingly,  passed  off  in  the  most  delightful 
manner. 

After  dinner,  the  affair  of  the  watch  was  talked  over, 
and  the  mysterious  initials  duly  discussed. 

Hans  had  just  pushed  back  his  stool,  intending  to  start 
at  once  for  Mynheer  van  Help's,  and  his  mother  had 
risen  to  put  the  watch  away  in  its  old  hiding-place,  when 
they  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  upon  the  frozen  ground. 
Some  one  knocked  at  the  door,  opening  it  at  the  same 
time. 

"Come  in!"  stammered  Dame  Brinker,  hastily  try- 
ing to  hide  the  watch  in  her  bosom.  "Oh !  is  it  you, 
mynheer  ?  Good-day !  The  father  is  nearly  well,  as 
you  see.  It's  a  poor  place  to  greet  you  in,  mynheer,  and 
the  dinner  not  cleared  away." 

Dr.  Boekman  scarcely  noticed  the  dame's  apology. 
He  was  evidently  in  haste. 

"Ahem!"  he  exclaimed;  "not  needed  here,  I  per- 
ceive. The  patient  is  mending  fast." 


330  HANS  DRINKER 

"Well  he  may,  mynheer,"  cried  the  dame;  "  for  only 
last  night  we  found  a  thousand  guilders  that's  been  lost 
to  us  these  ten  years." 

Dr.  Boekman  opened  his  eyes. 

"Yes,  mynheer,"  said  Raff.  "I  bid  the  vrouw  tell 
you,  though  it's  to  be  a  secret  among  us;  for  I  see  you 
can  keep  your  lips  closed  as  well  as  any  man." 

The  doctor  scowled.    He  never  liked  personal  remarks. 

"Now,  mynheer,"  continued  Raff,  "you  can  take  your 
rightful  pay.  God  knows  you  have  earned  it,  if  bringing 
such  a  poor  tool  back  to  the  world  and  his  family  can  be 
called  a  service.  Tell  the  vrouw  what's  to  pay,  mynheer: 
she  will  hand  out  the  sum  right  willingly." 

"Tut,  tut!"  said  the  doctor,  kindly.     "Say  nothing 
about  money.     I  can  find  plenty  of  such  pay  any  time; 
but  gratitude  comes  seldom.    That  boy's  'Thank  you,'  : 
he   added,    nodding   sidewise   toward    Hans,   "was    pay 
enough  for  me." 

"Like  enough  ye  have  a  boy  of  your  own,"  said  Dame 
Brinker,  quite  delighted  to  see  the  great  man  becoming 
so  sociable. 

Dr.  Boekman's  good-nature  vanished  at  once.  He 
gave  a  growl  (at  least  it  seemed  so  to  Gretel),  but  made 
no  actual  reply. 

"Do  not  think  the  vrouw  meddlesome,  mynheer,"  said 
Raff.  "She  has  been  sore  touched  of  late  about  a  lad 
whose  folks  have  gone  away,  none  know  where;  and  I 
had  a  message  for  them  from  the  young  gentleman." 


A  DISCOVERY  331 

"The  name  was  Boomphoffen,"  said  the  dame,  eagerly. 
"Do  you  know  aught  of  the  family,  mynheer  ?" 

The  doctor's  reply  was  brief  and  gruff. 

"Yes.  A  troublesome  set.  They  went,  long  since, 
to  America." 

"It  might  be,  Raff,"  persisted  Dame  Brinker,  timidly, 
"that  the  meester  knows  somebody  in  that  country; 
though  I'm  told  they  are  mostly  savages  over  there.  If 
he  could  get  the  watch  to  the  Boomphoffens  with  the 
poor  lad's  message,  it  would  be  a  most  blessed  thing." 

"Tut,  vrouw!  Why  pester  the  good  meester,  and  dying 
men  and  women  wanting  him  everywhere  ?  How  do  ye 
know  ye  have  the  true  name  ?" 

"I'm  sure  of  it!"  she  replied.  "They  had  a  son  Lam- 
bert; and  there's  an  L  for  Lambert,  and  a  B  for  Boomp- 
hoffen, on  the  back;  though,  to  be  sure,  there's  an  odd 
J  too;  but  the  meester  can  look  for  himself." 

So  saying,  she  drew  forth  the  watch. 

"L.  J.  B. !"  cried  Dr.  Boekman,  springing  toward 
her. 

Why  attempt  to  describe  the  scene  that  followed  ? 
I  need  only  say  that  the  lad's  message  was  delivered  to 
his  father  at  last, — delivered  while  the  great  surgeon  was 
sobbing  like  a  little  child. 

"Laurens,  my  Laurens!"  he  cried,  gazing  with  yearn- 
ing eyes  at  the  watch  as  he  held  it  tenderly  in  his  palm. 
"Ah,  if  I  had  but  known  sooner!  Laurens  a  homeless 
wanderer  ?  Great  Heaven !  he  may  be  suffering,  dying, 


332  HANS   DRINKER 

at  this  moment !  Think,  man,  where  is  he  ?  Where  did 
my  boy  say  the  letter  must  be  sent  ?" 

Raff  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"Think !"  implored  the  doctor.  Surely  the  memory 
so  lately  awakened  through  his  aid  could  not  refuse  to 
serve  him  in  a  moment  like  this. 

"It  is  all  gone,  mynheer,"  sighed  Raff. 

Hans,  forgetting  distinctions  of  rank  and  station,  for- 
getting everything  but  that  his  good  friend  was  in  trouble, 
threw  his  arms  around  the  doctor's  neck. 

"I  can  find  your  son,  mynheer.  If  alive,  he  is  some- 
where. The  earth  is  not  so  very  large:  I  will  devote 
every  day  of  my  life  to  the  search.  Mother  can  spare 
me  now.  You  are  rich,  mynheer:  send  me  where  you 
will." 

Gretel  began  to  cry.  It  was  right  for  Hans  to  go;  but 
how  could  they  ever  live  without  him  ? 

Dr.  Boekman  made  no  reply,  neither  did  he  push 
Hans  away.  His  eyes  were  fixed  anxiously  upon  Raff 
Brinker.  Suddenly  he  lifted  the  watch,  and  with  trem- 
bling eagerness  attempted  to  open  it.  Its  stiffened  spring 
yielded  at  last:  the  case  flew  open,  disclosing  a  watch- 
paper  in  the  back  bearing  a  group  of  blue  forget-me- 
nots.  Raff,  seeing  a  shade  of  intense  disappointment 
pass  over  the  doctor's  face,  hastened  to  say, — 

"There  was  something  else  in  it,  mynheer;  but  the 
young  gentleman  tore  it  out  before  he  handed  it  to  me. 
I  saw  him  kiss  it  as  he  put  it  away." 


A  DISCOVERY  333 

"It  was  his  mother's  picture/*  moaned  the  doctor: 
"she  died  when  he  was  ten  years  old.  Thank  God!  the 
boy  had  not  forgotten.  Both  dead?  It  is  impossible!" 
he  cried,  starting  up.  "My  boy  is  alive.  You  shall  hear 
his  story.  Laurens  acted  as  my  assistant.  By  mistake 
he  portioned  out  the  wrong  medicine  for  one  of  my  pa- 
tients,— a  deadly  poison;  but  it  was  never  administered; 
for  I  discovered  the  error  in  time.  The  man  died  that 
day.  I  was  detained  with  other  bad  cases  until  the  next 
evening.  When  I  reached  home,  my  boy  was  gone — 
Poor  Laurens!"  sobbed  the  doctor,  breaking  down  com- 
pletely, "never  to  hear  from  me  through  all  these  years. 
His  message  disregarded.  Oh,  what  must  he  have 
suffered!" 

Dame  Brinker  ventured  to  speak.  Anything  was 
better  than  to  see  the  meester  cry. 

"It  is  a  mercy  to  know  the  young  gentleman  was 
innocent.  Ah,  how  he  fretted !  Telling  you,  Raff,  that 
his  crime  was  like  unto  murder.  It  was  sending  the 
wrong  physic  he  meant.  Crime,  indeed !  Why,  our 
own  Gretel  might  have  done  that !  Like  enough  the 
poor  young  gentleman  heard  that  the  man  was  dead. 
That's  why  he  ran,  mynheer. — He  said,  you  know,  Raff, 
that  he  never  would  come  back  to  Holland  again,  un- 
less," she  hesitated — "ah,  your  honor,  ten  years  is  a 
dreary  time  to  be  waiting  to  hear  from — " 

"Hist,  vrouw!"  said  Raff,  sharply. 

"Waiting  to  hear,"  groaned  the  doctor,  "and  I,  like 


334  HANS   BRINKER 

a  fool,  sitting  stubbornly  at  home,  thinking  he  had 
abandoned  me.  I  never  dreamed,  Brinker,  that  the  boy 
had  discovered  the  mistake.  I  believed  it  was  youthful 
folly,  ingratitude,  love  of  adventure,  that  sent  him  away. 
My  poor,  poor  Laurens!" 

"But  you  know  all  now,  mynheer,"  whispered  Hans. 
"You  know  he  was  innocent  of  wrong,  that  he  loved 
you  and  his  dead  mother.  We  will  find  him.  You  shall 
see  him  again,  dear  meester." 

"God  bless  you!"  said  Dr.  Boekman,  seizing  the  boy's 
hand;  "it  may  be  as  you  say.  I  shall  try,  I  shall  try — 
and,  Brinker,  if  ever  the  faintest  gleam  of  recollection 
concerning  him  should  come  to  you,  you  will  send  me 
word  at  once  ?" 

"Indeed  we  will!"  cried  all  but  Hans,  whose  silent 
promise  would  have  satisfied  the  doctor,  even  had  the 
others  not  spoken. 

"Your  boy's  eyes,"  he  said,  turning  to  Dame  Brinker, 
"are  strangely  like  my  son's.  The  first  time  I  met  him, 
it  seemed  that  Laurens  himself  was  looking  at  me." 

"Ay,  mynheer,"  replied  the  mother,  proudly.  "I  have 
marked  that  you  were  much  drawn  to  the  child." 

For  a  few  moments  the  meester  seemed  lost  in  thought; 
then,  arousing  himself,  he  spoke  in  a  new  voice, — 

"Forgive  me,  RafF  Brinker,  for  this  tumult.  Do  not 
feel  distressed  on  my  account.  I  leave  your  house  to- 
day a  happier  man  than  I  have  been  for  many  a  long 
year.  Shall  I  take  the  watch  ?" 


A  DISCOVERY  335 

"Certainly  you  must,  mynheer.  It  was  your  son's 
wish." 

"Even  so,"  responded  the  doctor,  regarding  his  trea- 
sure with  a  queer  frown;  for  his  face  could  not  throw  off 
its  bad  habits  in  an  hour, — "even  so.  And  now  I  must 
be  gone.  No  medicine  is  needed  by  my  patient,  only 
peace  and  cheerfulness;  and  both  are  here  in  plenty. 
Heaven  bless  you,  my  good  friends !  I  shall  ever  be 
grateful  to  you." 

"May  Heaven  bless  you,  too,  mynheer!  and  may  you 
soon  find  the  dear  young  gentleman  !"  said  Dame  Drinker, 
earnestly,  after  hurriedly  wiping  her  eyes  upon  the  corner 
of  her  apron. 

Raff  uttered  a  hearty  "Amen !"  and  Gretel  threw  such 
a  wistful,  eager  glance  at  the  doctor  that  he  patted  her 
head  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  cottage. 

Hans  went  out  also. 

"When  I  can  serve  you,  mynheer,  I  am  ready." 

"Very  well,  boy,"  replied  Dr.  Boekman,  with  peculiar 
mildness.  "Tell  them  within  to  say  nothing  of  what  has 
just  passed.  Meantime,  Hans,  when  you  are  with  your 
father,  watch  his  mood.  You  have  tact.  At  any  mo- 
ment he  may  suddenly  be  able  to  tell  us  more." 

"Trust  me  for  that,  mynheer." 

"Good-day,  my  boy!"  cried  the  doctor,  as  he  sprang 
into  his  stately  coach. 

"Aha!"  thought  Hans,  as  it  rolled  away,  "the  meester 
has  more  life  in  him  than  I  thought." 


XLIV 

THE    RACE 

THE  2Oth  of  December  came  at  last,  bringing  with  it 
the  perfection  of  winter  weather.  All  over  the  level  land- 
scape lay  the  warm  sunlight.  It  tried  its  power  on  lake, 
canal  and  river;  but  the  ice  flashed  defiance,  and  showed 
no  sign  of  melting.  The  very  weather-cocks  stood  still 
to  enjoy  the  sight.  This  gave  the  windmills  a  holiday. 
Nearly  all  the  past  week  they  had  been  whirling  briskly: 
now,  being  rather  out  of  breath,  they  rocked  lazily  in 
the  clear,  still  air.  Catch  a  windmill  working  when  the 
weather-cocks  have  nothing  to  do ! 

There  was  an  end  to  grinding,  crushing  and  sawing 
for  that  day.  It  was  a  good  thing  for  the  millers  near 
Broek.  Long  before  noon,  they  concluded  to  take  in 
their  sails,  and  go  to  the  race.  Everybody  would  be 
there.  Already  the  north  side  of  the  frozen  Y  was  bor- 
dered with  eager  spectators:  the  news  of  the  great  skat- 
ing-match  had  travelled  far  and  wide.  Men,  women  and 

children,  in  holiday  attire,  were  flocking  toward  the  spot. 

336 


THE   RACE  337 

Some  wore  furs,  and  wintry  cloaks  or  shawls;  but  many, 
consulting  their  feelings  rather  than  the  almanac,  were 
dressed  as  for  an  October  day. 

The  site  selected  for  the  race  was  a  faultless  plain  of 
ice  near  Amsterdam,  on  that  great  arm  of  the  Zuyder- 
Zee,  which  Dutchmen,  of  course,  must  call  the  Eye. 
The  townspeople  turned  out  in  large  numbers.  Strangers 
in  the  city  deemed  it  a  fine  chance  to  see  what  was  to  be 
seen.  Many  a  peasant  from  the  northward  had  wisely 
chosen  the  2Oth  as  the  day  for  the  next  city-trading. 
It  seemed  that  everybody,  young  and  old,  who  had 
wheels,  skates  or  feet  at  command,  had  hastened  to  the 
scene. 

There  were  the  gentry  in  their  coaches,  dressed  like 
Parisians  fresh  from  the  Boulevards;  Amsterdam  chil- 
dren in  charity  uniforms;  girls  from  the  Roman  Catholic 
Orphan-House,  in  sable  gowns  and  white  headbands; 
boys  from  the  Burgher  Asylum,  with  their  black  tights 
and  short-skirted,  harlequin  coats.1  There  were  old- 
fashioned  gentlemen  in  cocked  hats  and  velvet  knee- 
breeches;  old-fashioned  ladies,  too,  in  stiff,  quilted  skirts, 
and  bodices  of  dazzling  brocade.  These  were  accom- 
panied by  servants  bearing  foot-stoves  and  cloaks.  There 
were  the  peasant-folk  arrayed  in  every  possible  Dutch 

irrhis  is  not  said  in  derision.  Both  the  girls  and  boys  of  this  institution 
wear  garments  quartered  in  red  and  black  alternately.  By  making  the  dress 
thus  conspicuous,  the  children  are,  in  a  measure,  deterred  from  wrong-doing 
while  going  about  the  city.  The  Burgher  Orphan-Asylum  affords  a  comfort- 
able home  to  several  hundred  boys  and  girls.  Holland  is  famous  for  its  chari- 
table institutions. 


338  HANS   DRINKER 

costume, — shy  young  rustics  in  brazen  buckles;  simple 
village-maidens  concealing  their  flaxen  hair  under  fillets 
of  gold;  women  whose  long,  narrow  aprons  were  stiff 
with  embroidery;  women  with  short  corkscrew  curls 
hanging  over  their  foreheads;  women  with  shaved  heads 
and  close-fitting  caps;  and  women  in  striped  skirts  and 
windmill  bonnets;  men  in  leather,  in  homespun,  in  vel- 
vet and  broadcloth;  burghers  in  model  European  attire, 
and  burghers  in  short  jackets,  wide  trousers,  and  steeple- 
crowned  hats. 

There  were  beautiful  Friesland  girls  in  wooden  shoes 
and  coarse  petticoats,  with  solid  gold  crescents  encircling 
their  heads,  finished  at  each  temple  with  a  golden  rosette, 
and  hung  with  lace  a  century  old.  Some  wore  necklaces, 
pendants  and  earrings  of  the  purest  gold.  Many  were 
content  with  gilt,  or  even  with  brass;  but  it  is  not  an 
uncommon  thing  for  a  Friesland  woman  to  have  all  the 
family  treasure  in  her  head-gear.  More  than  one  rustic 
lass  displayed  the  value  of  two  thousand  guilders  upon 
her  head  that  day. 

Scattered  throughout  the  crowd  were  peasants  from 
the  Island  of  Marken,  with  sabots,  black  stockings,  and 
the  widest  of  breeches;  also  women  from  Marken,  with 
short  blue  petticoats,  and  black  jackets  gayly  figured 
in  front.  They  wore  red  sleeves,  white  aprons,  and  a  cap 
like  a  bishop's  mitre  over  their  golden  hair. 

The  children,  often,  were  as  quaint  and  odd-looking 
as  their  elders.  In  short,  one-third  of  the  crowd  seemed 


THE   RACE  339 

to  have  stepped  bodily  from  a  collection  of  Dutch 
paintings. 

Everywhere  could  be  seen  tall  women  and  stumpy 
men,  lively-faced  girls,  and  youths  whose  expression 
never  changed  from  sunrise  to  sunset. 

There  seemed  to  be  at  least  one  specimen  from  every 
known  town  in  Holland.  There  were  Utrecht  water- 
bearers,  Gouda  cheese-makers,  Delft  pottery-men,  Schie- 
dam distillers,  Amsterdam  diamond-cutters,  Rotterdam 
merchants,  dried-up  herring-packers,  and  two  sleepy- 
eyed  shepherds  from  Texel.  Every  man  of  them  had 
his  pipe  and  tobacco-pouch.  Some  carried  what  might 
be  called  the  smoker's  complete  outfit, — a  pipe,  tobacco, 
a  pricker  with  which  to  clean  the  tube,  a  silver  net  for 
protecting  the  bowl,  and  a  box  of  the  strongest  of  brim- 
stone matches. 

A  true  Dutchman,  you  must  remember,  is  rarely 
without  his  pipe  on  any  possible  occasion.  He  may,  for 
a  moment,  neglect  to  breathe;  but  when  the  pipe  is  for- 
gotten, he  must  be  dying,  indeed.  There  were  no  such 
sad  cases  here.  Wreaths  of  smoke  were  rising  from  every 
possible  quarter.  The  more  fantastic  the  smoke-wreath, 
the  more  placid  and  solemn  the  smoker. 

Look  at  those  boys  and  girls  on  stilts !  That  is  a  good 
idea.  They  can  see  over  the  heads  of  the  tallest.  It  is 
strange  to  see  those  little  bodies  high  in  the  air,  carried 
about  on  mysterious  legs.  They  have  such  a  resolute 
look  on  their  round  faces,  what  wonder  that  nervous  old 


340  HANS   BRINKER 

gentlemen,  with  tender  feet,  wince  and  tremble  while 
the  long-legged  little  monsters  stride  past  them ! 

You  will  read,  in  certain  books,  that  the  Dutch  are  a 
quiet  people:  so  they  are  generally.  But  listen  !  did  ever 
you  hear  such  a  din  ?  All  made  up  of  human  voices — 
no,  the  horses  are  helping  somewhat,  and  the  fiddles  are 
squeaking  pitifully;  (how  it  must  pain  fiddles  to  be 
tuned !)  but  the  mass  of  the  sound  comes  from  the  great 
vox  humana  that  belongs  to  a  crowd. 

That  queer  little  dwarf,  going  about  with  a  heavy 
basket,  winding  in  and  out  among  the  people,  helps  not 
a  little.  You  can  hear  his  shrill  cry  above  all  other  sounds, 
"Pypen  en  tabac !  Pypen  en  tabac!" 

Another,  his  big  brother,  though  evidently  some  years 
younger,  is  selling  doughnuts  and  bonbons.  He  is  call- 
ing on  all  pretty  children,  far  and  near,  to  come  quickly, 
or  the  cakes  will  be  gone. 

You  know  quite  a  number  among  the  spectators. 
High  up  in  yonder  pavilion,  erected  upon  the  border  of 
the  ice,  are  some  persons  whom  you  have  seen  very  lately. 
In  the  centre  is  Madame  van  Gleck.  It  is  her  birthday, 
you  remember:  she  has  the  post  of  honor.  There  is 
Mynheer  van  Gleck,  whose  meerschaum  has  not  really 
grown  fast  to  his  lips:  it  only  appears  so.  There  are 
grandfather  and  grandmother,  whom  you  met  at  the  St. 
Nicholas  fete.  All  the  children  are  with  them.  It  is  so 
mild,  they  have  brought  even  the  baby.  The  poor  little 
creature  is  swaddled  very  much  after  the  manner  of  an 


THE  RACE  341 

Egyptian  mummy;  but  it  can  crow  with  delight,  and, 
when  the  band  is  playing,  open  and  shut  its  animated 
mittens  in  perfect  time  to  the  music. 

Grandfather,  with  his  pipe  and  spectacles  and  fur  cap, 
makes  quite  a  picture  as  he  holds  baby  upon  his  knee. 
Perched  high  upon  their  canopied  platforms,  the  party 
can  see  all  that  is  going  on.  No  wonder  the  ladies  look 
complacently  at  the  glassy  ice:  with  a  stove  for  a  foot- 
stool, one  might  sit  cosily  beside  the  north  pole. 

There  is  a  gentleman  with  them  who  somewhat  re- 
sembles St.  Nicholas  as  he  appeared  to  the  young  Van 
Glecks,  on  the  5th  of  December.  But  the  saint  had  a 
flowing  white  beard;  and  this  face  is  as  smooth  as  a 
pippin.  His  saintship  was  larger  around  the  body,  too, 
and  (between  ourselves)  he  had  a  pair  of  thimbles  in  his 
mouth,  which  this  gentleman  certainly  has  not.  It  can- 
not be  St.  Nicholas,  after  all. 

Near  by,  in  the  next  pavilion,  sit  the  Van  Holps,  with 
their  son  and  daughter  (the  Van  Gends)  from  the  Hague. 
Peter's  sister  is  not  one  to  forget  her  promises.  She  has 
brought  bouquets  of  exquisite  hot-house  flowers  for  the 
winners. 

These  pavilions,  and  there  are  others  beside,  have  all 
been  erected  since  daylight.  That  semicircular  one,  con- 
taining Mynheer  Korbes'  family,  is  very  pretty,  and 
proves  that  the  Hollanders  are  quite  skilled  at  tent- 
making;  but  I  like  the  Van  Glecks'  best, — the  centre 
one, — striped  red  and  white,  and  hung  with  evergreens. 


342  HANS   BRINKER 

The  one  with  the  blue  flags  contains  the  musicians. 
Those  pagoda-like  affairs,  decked  with  sea-shells,  and 
streamers  of  every  possible  hue,  are  the  judges*  stands; 
and  those  columns  and  flagstaff's  upon  the  ice  mark  the 
limit  of  the  race-course.  The  two  white  columns,  twined 
with  green,  connected  at  the  top  by  that  long,  floating 
strip  of  drapery,  form  the  starting-point.  Those  flag- 
staffs,  half  a  mile  off",  stand  at  each  end  of  the  boundary 
line,  cut  sufficiently  deep  to  be  distinct  to  the  skaters, 
though  not  deep  enough  to  trip  them  when  they  turn 
to  come  back  to  the  starting-point. 

The  air  is  so  clear,  it  seems  scarcely  possible  that  the 
columns  and  flagstaff's  are  so  far  apart.  Of  course,  the 
judges'  stands  are  but  little  nearer  together. 

Half  a  mile  on  the  ice,  when  the  atmosphere  is  like 
this,  is  but  a  short  distance,  after  all,  especially  when 
fenced  with  a  living  chain  of  spectators. 

The  music  has  commenced.  How  melody  seems  to 
enjoy  itself  in  the  open  air !  The  fiddles  have  forgotten 
their  agony,  and  everything  is  harmonious.  Until  you 
look  at  the  blue  tent,  it  seems  that  the  music  springs 
from  the  sunshine,  it  is  so  boundless,  so  joyous.  Only 
the  musicians  are  solemn. 

Where  are  the  racers  ?  All  assembled  together  near 
the  white  columns.  It  is  a  beautiful  sight, — forty  boys 
and  girls  in  picturesque  attire,  darting  with  electric 
swiftness  in  and  out  among  each  other,  or  sailing  in  pairs 
and  triplets,  beckoning,  chatting,  whispering,  in  the 
fulness  of  youthful  glee. 


THE  RACE  343 

A  few  careful  ones  are  soberly  tightening  their  straps; 
others,  halting  on  one  leg,  with  flushed,  eager  faces,  sud- 
denly cross  the  suspected  skate  over  their  knee,  give  it 
an  examining  shake,  and  dart  off  again.  One  and  all 
are  possessed  with  the  spirit  of  motion.  They  cannot 
stand  still.  Their  skates  are  a  part  of  them;  and  every 
runner  seems  bewitched. 

Holland  is  the  place  for  skaters,  after  all.  Where  else 
can  nearly  every  boy  and  girl  perform  feats  on  the  ice 
that  would  attract  a  crowd  if  seen  in  Central  Park  ? 
Look  at  Ben !  I  did  not  see  him  before.  He  is  really 
astonishing  the  natives;  no  easy  thing  to  do  in  the 
Netherlands.  Save  your  strength,  Ben,  you  will  need 
it  soon.  Now  other  boys  are  trying!  Ben  is  surpassed 
already.  Such  jumping,  such  poising,  such  spinning, 
such  india-rubber  exploits  generally !  That  boy  with 
a  red  cap  is  the  lion  now:  his  back  is  a  watch-spring,  his 
body  is  cork — no,  it  is  iron,  or  it  would  snap  at  that. 
He  is  a  bird,  a  top,  a  rabbit,  a  corkscrew,  a  sprite,  a  flesh- 
ball,  all  in  an  instant.  When  you  think  he's  erect,  he  is 
down;  and  when  you  think  he  is  down,  he  is  up.  He 
drops  his  glove  on  the  ice,  and  turns  a  somerset  as  he 
picks  it  up.  Without  stopping,  he  snatches  the  cap  from 
Jacob  Foot's  astonished  head,  and  claps  it  back  again 
"hindside  before."  Lookers-on  hurrah  and  laugh. 
Foolish  boy !  It  is  arctic  weather  under  your  feet,  but 
more  than  temperate  overhead.  Big  drops  already  are 
rolling  down  your  forehead.  Superb  skater  as  you  are, 
you  may  lose  the  race. 


344  HANS   BRINKER 

A  French  traveller,  standing  with  a  note-book  in  his 
hand,  sees  our  English  friend,  Ben,  buy  a  doughnut  of 
the  dwarfs  brother,  and  eat  it.  Thereupon  he  writes 
in  his  note-book  that  the  Dutch  take  enormous  mouth- 
fuls,  and  universally  are  fond  of  potatoes  boiled  in 
molasses. 

There  are  some  familiar  faces  near  the  white  columns. 
Lambert,  Ludwig,  Peter  and  Carl  are  all  there,  cool, 
and  in  good  skating-order.  Hans  is  not  far  off.  Evi- 
dently he  is  going  to  join  in  the  race,  for  his  skates  are 
on, — the  very  pair  that  he  sold  for  seven  guilders.  He 
had  soon  suspected  that  his  fairy  godmother  was  the 
mysterious  "friend"  who  bought  them.  This  settled, 
he  had  boldly  charged  her  with  the  deed;  and  she,  know- 
ing well  that  all  her  little  savings  had  been  spent  in  the 
purchase,  had  not  had  the  face  to  deny  it.  Through  the 
fairy  godmother,  too,  he  had  been  rendered  amply  able 
to  buy  them  back  again.  Therefore  Hans  is  to  be  in 
the  race.  Carl  is  more  indignant  than  ever  about  it; 
but,  as  three  other  peasant-boys  have  entered,  Hans  is 
not  alone. 

Twenty  boys  and  twenty  girls.  The  latter,  by  this 
time,  are  standing  in  front,  braced  for  the  start;  for 
they  are  to  have  the  first  "run."  Hilda,  Rychie  and 
Katrinka  are  among  them.  Two  or  three  bend  hastily 
to  give  a  last  pull  at  their  skate-straps.  It  is  pretty  to 
see  them  stamp  to  be  sure  that  all  is  firm.  Hilda  is 
speaking  pleasantly  to  a  graceful  little  creature  in  a  red 


THE  RACE  345 

jacket  and  a  new  brown  petticoat.  Why,  it  is  Gretel ! 
What  a  difference  those  pretty  shoes  make,  and  the  skirt, 
and  the  new  cap  !  Annie  Bouman  is  there  too.  Even 
Janzoon  Kolp's  sister  has  been  admitted;  but  Janzoon 
himself  has  been  voted  out  by  the  directors,  because  he 
killed  the  stork,  and  only  last  summer  was  caught  in  the 
act  of  robbing  a  bird's  nest, — a  legal  offence  in  Holland. 

This  Janzoon  Kolp,  you  see,  was —  There,  I  cannot 
tell  the  story  just  now.  The  race  is  about  to  commence. 

Twenty  girls  are  formed  in  a  line.    The  music  has  ceased. 

A  man,  whom  we  shall  call  the  crier,  stands  between 
the  columns  and  the  first  judges'  stand.  He  reads  the 
rules  in  a  loud  voice: — 

"THE  GIRLS  AND  BOYS  ARE  TO  RACE  IN  TURN,  UNTIL 
ONE  GIRL  AND  ONE  BOY  HAVE  BEATEN  TWICE.  THEY 
ARE  TO  START  IN  A  LINE  FROM  THE  UNITED  COLUMNS, 
SKATE  TO  THE  FLAGSTAFF  LINE,  TURN,  AND  THEN  COME 
BACK  TO  THE  STARTING-POINT;  THUS  MAKING  A  MILE  AT 
EACH  RUN." 

A  flag  is  waved  from  the  judges'  stand.  Madame  van 
Gleck  rises  in  her  pavilion.  She  leans  forward  with  a 
white  handkerchief  in  her  hand.  When  she  drops  it, 
a  bugler  is  to  give  the  signal  for  them  to  start. 

The  handkerchief  is  fluttering  to  the  ground.     Hark ! 

They  are  off! 

No.  Back  again.  Their  line  was  not  true  in  passing 
the  judges'  stand. 

The  signal  is  repeated. 


346  HANS   BRINKER 

Off  again.  No  mistake  this  time.  Whew!  how  fast 
they  go ! 

The  multitude  is  quiet  for  an  instant,  absorbed  in 
eager,  breathless  watching. 

Cheers  spring  up  along  the  line  of  spectators.  Huzza ! 
five  girts  are  ahead.  Who  comes  flying  back  from  the 
boundary-mark  ?  We  cannot  tell.  Something  red,  that 
is  all.  There  is  a  blue  spot  flitting  near  it,  and  a  dash  of 
yellow  nearer  still.  Spectators  at  this  end  of  the  line 
strain  their  eyes,  and  wish  they  had  taken  their  post 
nearer  the  flagstaff. 

The  wave  of  cheers  is  coming  back  again.  Now  we 
can  see.  Katrinka  is  ahead  ! 

She  passes  the  Van  Holp  pavilion.  The  next  is  Ma- 
dame van  Gleck's.  That  leaning  figure  gazing  from  it 
is  a  magnet.  Hilda  shoots  past  Katrinka,  waving  her 
hand  to  her  mother  as  she  passes.  Two  others  are  close 
now,  whizzing  on  like  arrows.  What  is  that  flash  of  red 
and  gray  ?  Hurrah,  it  is  Gretel !  She,  too,  waves  her 
hand,  but  toward  no  gay  pavilion.  The  crowd  is  cheer- 
ing; but  she  hears  only  her  father's  voice, — "Well  done, 
little  Gretel!"  Soon  Katrinka,  with  a  quick,  merry 
laugh  shoots  past  Hilda.  The  girl  in  yellow  is  gaining 
now.  She  passes  them  all, — all  except  Gretel.  The 
judges  lean  forward  without  seeming  to  lift  their  eyes 
from  their  watches.  Cheer  after  cheer  fills  the  air:  the 
very  columns  seem  rocking.  Gretel  has  passed  them. 
She  has  won. 


THE   RACE  347 

"GRETEL  BRINKER,  ONE  MILE!"  shouts  the  crier. 

The  judges  nod.  They  write  something  upon  a  tablet 
which  each  holds  in  his  hand. 

While  the  girls  are  resting, — some  crowding  eagerly 
around  our  frightened  little  Gretel,  some  standing  aside 
in  high  disdain, — the  boys  form  in  a  line. 

Mynheer  van  Gleck  drops  the  handkerchief,  this  time. 
The  buglers  give  a  vigorous  blast. — Off  start  the  boys ! 

Half-way  already.     Did  ever  you  see  the  like ! 

Three  hundred  legs  flashings  by  in  an  instant.  But 
there  are  only  twenty  boys.  No  matter:  there  were 
hundreds  of  legs,  I  am  sure.  Where  are  they  now  ?  There 
is  such  a  noise,  one  gets  bewildered.  What  are  the  people 
laughing  at  ?  Oh !  at  that  fat  boy  in  the  rear.  See  him 
go!  See  him!  He'll  be  down  in  an  instant:  no,  he 
won't.  I  wonder  if  he  knows  he  is  all  alone:  the  other 
boys  are  nearly  at  the  boundary-line.  Yes,  he  knows  it. 
He  stops.  He  wipes  his  hot  face.  He  takes  off  his  cap, 
and  looks  about  him.  Better  to  give  up  with  a  good 
grace.  He  has  made  a  hundred  friends  by  that  hearty, 
astonished  laugh.  Good  Jacob  Foot ! 

The  fine  fellow  is  already  among  the  spectators,  gazing 
as  eagerly  as  the  rest. 

A  cloud  of  feathery  ice  flies  from  the  heels  of  the  skaters 
as  they  "bring  to,"  and  turn  at  the  flagstaff's. 

Something  black  is  coming  now,  one  of  the  boys:  it 
is  all  we  know.  He  has  touched  the  vox  humana  stop  of 
the  crowd:  it  fairly  roars.  Now  they  come  nearer;  we 


348  HANS  BRINKER 

can  see  the  red  cap.  There's  Ben,  there's  Peter,  there's 
Hans. 

Hans  is  ahead.  Young  Madame  van  Gend  almost 
crushes  the  flowers  in  her  hand:  she  had  been  quite  sure 
that  Peter  would  be  first.  Carl  Schummel  is  next,  then 
Ben,  and  the  youth  with  the  red  cap.  The  others  are 
pressing  close.  A  tall  figure  darts  from  among  them. 
He  passes  the  red  cap,  he  passes  Ben,  then  Carl.  Now  it 
is  an  even  race  between  him  and  Hans.  Madame  van 
Gend  catches  her  breath. 

It  is  Peter !  He  is  ahead !  Hans  shoots  past  him. 
Hilda's  eyes  fill  with  tears:  Peter  must  beat.  Annie's 
eyes  flash  proudly.  Gretel  gazes  with  clasped  hands: 
four  strokes  more  will  take  her  brother  to  the  columns. 

He  is  there !  Yes;  but  so  was  young  Schummel  just 
a  second  before.  At  the  last  instant,  Carl,  gathering  his 
powers,  had  whizzed  between  them,  and  passed  the  goal. 

"CARL  SCHUMMEL,  ONE  MILE!"  shouts  the  crier. 

Soon  Madame  van  Gleck  rises  again.  The  falling 
handkerchief  starts  the  bugle;  and  the  bugle,  using  its 
voice  as  a  bowstring,  shoots  ofF  twenty  girls  like  so  many 
arrows. 

It  is  a  beautiful  sight;  but  one  has  not  long  to  look: 
before  we  can  fairly  distinguish  them,  they  are  far  in 
the  distance.  This  time  they  are  close  upon  one  an- 
other. It  is  hard  to  say,  as  they  come  speeding  back 
from  the  flagstaff,  which  will  reach  the  columns  first. 
There  are  new  faces  among  the  foremost, — eager,  glow- 


THE  RACE  349 

ing  faces,  unnoticed  before.  Katrinka  is  there,  and  Hilda; 
but  Gretel  and  Rychie  are  in  the  rear.  Gretel  is  waver- 
ing; but,  when  Rychie  passes  her,  she  starts  forward 
afresh.  Now  they  are  nearly  beside  Katrinka.  Hilda 
is  still  in  advance:  she  is  almost  "home."  She  has  not 
faltered  since  that  bugle-note  sent  her  flying:  like  an 
arrow,  still  she  is  speeding  toward  the  goal.  Cheer  after 
cheer  rises  in  the  air.  Peter  is  silent;  but  his  eyes  shine 
like  stars.  "Huzza!  Huzza!" 

The  crier's  voice  is  heard  again. 

"HILDA  VAN  GLECK,  ONE  MILE!" 

A  loud  murmur  of  approval  runs  through  the  crowd, 
catching  the  music  in  its  course,  till  all  seems  one  sound, 
with  a  glad,  rhythmic  throbbing  in  its  depths.  When 
the  flag  waves,  all  is  still. 

Once  more  the  bugle  blows  a  terrific  blast.  It  sends 
off  the  boys  like  chaff  before  the  wind, — dark  chaff,  I 
admit,  and  in  big  pieces. 

It  is  whisked  around  at  the  flagstaff,  driven  faster  yet 
by  the  cheers  and  shouts  along  the  line.  We  begin  to 
see  what  is  coming.  There  are  three  boys  in  advance, 
this  time,  and  all  abreast, — Hans,  Peter  and  Lambert. 
Carl  soon  breaks  the  ranks,  rushing  through  with  a  whiff. 
Fly,  Hans;  fly,  Peter:  don't  let  Carl  beat  again! — Carl 
the  bitter,  Carl  the  insolent.  Van  Mounen  is  flagging; 
but  you  are  as  strong  as  ever.  Hans  and  Peter,  Peter 
and  Hans:  which  is  foremost?  We  love  them  both. 
We  scarcely  care  which  is  the  fleeter. 


350  HANS  BRINKER 

Hilda,  Annie  and  Gretel,  seated  upon  the  long  crimson 
bench,  can  remain  quiet  no  longer.  They  spring  to  their 
feet,  so  different !  and  yet  one  in  eagerness.  Hilda  in- 
stantly reseats  herself:  none  shall  know  how  interested 
she  is;  none  shall  know  how  anxious,  how  filled  with  one 
hope.  Shut  your  eyes,  then,  Hilda,  hide  your  face  rip- 
pling with  joy.  Peter  has  beaten. 

"PETER  VAN  HOLP,  ONE  MILE  !"  calls  the  crier. 

The  same  buzz  of  excitement  as  before,  while  the 
judges  take  notes,  the  same  throbbing  of  music  through 
the  din;  but  something  is  different.  A  little  crowd 
presses  close  about  some  object  near  the  column.  Carl 
has  fallen.  He  is  not  hurt,  though  somewhat  stunned. 
If  he  were  less  sullen,  he  would  find  more  sympathy  in 
these  warm  young  hearts.  As  it  is,  they  forget  him  as 
soon  as  he  is  fairly  on  his  feet  again. 

The  girls  are  to  skate  their  third  mile. 

How  resolute  the  little  maidens  look  as  they  stand  in 
a  line !  Some  are  solemn  with  a  sense  of  responsibility; 
some  wear  a  smile,  half-bashful,  half-provoked;  but  one 
air  of  determination  pervades  them  all. 

This  third  mile  may  decide  the  race.  Still,  if  neither 
Gretel  nor  Hilda  win,  there  is  yet  a  chance  among  the 
rest  for  the  silver  skates. 

Each  girl  feels  sure  that,  this  time,  she  will  accomplish 
the  distance  in  one-half  the  time.  How  they  stamp  to 
try  their  runners !  How  nervously  they  examine  each 
strap !  How  erect  they  stand  at  last,  every  eye  upon 
Madame  van  Gleck ! 


THE  RACE  351 

The  bugle  thrills  through  them  again.  With  quiver- 
ing eagerness  they  spring  forward,  bending,  but  in  perfect 
balance.  Each  flashing  stroke  seems  longer  than  the 
last. 

Now  they  are  skimming  off  in  the  distance. 

Again  the  eager  straining  of  eyes;  again  the  shouts 
and  cheering;  again  the  thrill  of  excitement,  as,  after  a 
few  moments,  four  or  five,  in  advance  of  the  rest,  come 
speeding  back,  nearer,  nearer,  to  the  white  columns. 

Who  is  first  ?  Not  Rychie,  Katrinka,  Annie,  nor 
Hilda,  nor  the  girl  in  yellow,  but  Gretel, — Gretel,  the 
fleetest  sprite  of  a  girl  that  ever  skated.  She  was  but 
playing  in  the  earlier  race:  now  she  is  in  earnest,  or, 
rather,  something  within  her  has  determined  to  win. 
That  lithe  little  form  makes  no  effort;  but  it  cannot 
stop, — not  until  the  goal  is  passed ! 

In  vain  the  crier  lifts  his  voice:  he  cannot  be  heard. 
He  has  no  news  to  tell:  it  is  already  ringing  through  the 
crowd, — Gretel  has  won  the  silver  skates! 

Like  a  bird,  she  has  flown  over  the  ice;  like  a  bird, 
she  looks  about  her  in  a  timid,  startled  way.  She  longs 
to  dart  to  the  sheltered  nook  where  her  father  and  mother 
stand.  But  Hans  is  beside  her:  the  girls  are  crowding 
round.  Hilda's  kind,  joyous  voice  breathes  in  her  ear. 
From  that  hour,  none  will  despise  her.  Goose-girl  or 
not,  Gretel  stands  acknowledged  Queen  of  the  Skaters. 

With  natural  pride,  Hans  turns  to  see  if  Peter  van 
Holp  is  witnessing  his  sister's  triumph.  Peter  is  not 


352  HANS   DRINKER 

looking  toward  them  at  all.  He  is  kneeling,  bending 
his  troubled  face  low,  and  working  hastily  at  his  skate- 
strap.  Hans  is  beside  him  at  once. 

"Are  you  in  trouble,  mynheer?" 

"Ah,  Hans !  that  you  ?  Yes,  my  fun  is  over.  I  tried 
to  tighten  my  strap,  to  make  a  new  hole;  and  this  bother- 
ation of  a  knife  has  cut  it  nearly  in  two." 

"Mynheer,"  said  Hans,  at  the  same  time  pulling  off 
a  skate,  "you  must  use  my  strap!" 

"Not  I,  indeed,  Hans  Drinker!"  cried  Peter,  looking 
up,  "though  I  thank  you  warmly.  Go  to  your  post,  my 
friend:  the  bugle  will  sound  in  a  minute." 

"Mynheer,"  pleaded  Hans,  in  a  husky  voice,  "you 
have  called  me  your  friend.  Take  this  strap — quick! 
There  is  not  an  instant  to  lose.  I  shall  not  skate  this 
time:  indeed,  I  am  out  of  practice.  Mynheer,  you  must 
take  it;"  and  Hans,  blind  and  deaf  to  any  remonstrance, 
slipped  his  strap  into  Peter's  skate,  and  implored  him  to 
put  it  on. 

"Come,  Peter!"  cried  Lambert  from  the  line:  "we 
are  waiting  for  you." 

"For  madame's  sake,"  pleaded  Hans,  "be  quick!  She 
is  motioning  to  you  to  join  the  racers.  There,  the  skate 
is  almost  on:  quick,  mynheer,  fasten  it.  I  could  not 
possibly  win.  The  race  lies  between  Master  Schummel 
and  yourself." 

"You  are  a  noble  fellow,  Hans!"  cried  Peter,  yield- 
ing at  last.  He  sprang  to  his  post  just  as  the  handker- 


THE   RACE  353 

chief  fell  to  the  ground.  The  bugle  sends  forth  its  blast, 
loud,  clear  and  ringing. 

Off  go  the  boys  ! 

"Mine  Gott!"  cries  a  tough  old  fellow  from  Delft. 
"They  beat  everything, — these  Amsterdam  youngsters. 
See  them!" 

See  them,  indeed  !  They  are  winged  Mercuries,  every 
one  of  them.  What  mad  errand  are  they  on  ?  Ah,  I 
know:  they  are  hunting  Peter  van  Holp.  He  is  some 
fleet-footed  runaway  from  Olympus.  Mercury  and  his 
troop  of  winged  cousins  are  in  full  chase.  They  will 
catch  him !  Now  Carl  is  the  runaway.  The  pursuit 
grows  furious.  Ben  is  foremost ! 

The  chase  turns  in  a  cloud  of  mist.  It  is  coming  this 
way.  Who  is  hunted  now  ?  Mercury  himself.  It  is 
Peter,  Peter  van  Holp !  Fly,  Peter !  Hans  is  watching 
you.  He  is  sending  all  his  fleetness,  all  his  strength,  into 
your  feet.  Your  mother  and  sister  are  pale  with  eager- 
ness. Hilda  is  trembling,  and  dare  not  look  up.  Fly, 
Peter!  The  crowd  has  not  gone  deranged:  it  is  only 
cheering.  The  pursuers  are  close  upon  you.  Touch  the 
white  column  !  It  beckons;  it  is  reeling  before  you — it — 

"Huzza!     Huzza!     Peter  has  won  the  silver  skates!" 

"PETER  VAN  HOLP!"  shouted  the  crier.  But  who 
heard  him?  "Peter  van  Holp!"  shouted  a  hundred 
voices;  for  he  was  the  favorite  boy  of  the  place.  "Huz- 
za !  Huzza!" 

Now  the  music  was  resolved  to  be  heard.     It  struck 


354  HANS  BRINKER 

up  a  lively  air,  then  a  tremendous  march.  The  specta- 
tors, thinking  something  new  was  about  to  happen, 
deigned  to  listen  and  to  look. 

The  racers  formed  in  single  file.  Peter,  being  tallest, 
stood  first.  Gretel,  the  smallest  of  all,  took  her  place  at 
the  end.  Hans,  who  had  borrowed  a  strap  from  the 
cake-boy,  was  near  the  head. 

•  Three  gayly  twined  arches  were  placed  at  intervals 
upon  the  river,  facing  the  Van  Gleck  pavilion. 

Skating  slowly,  and  in  perfect  time  to  the  music,  the 
boys  and  girls  moved  forward,  led  on  by  Peter.  It  was 
beautiful  to  see  the  bright  procession  glide  along  like  a 
living  creature.  It  curved  and  doubled,  and  drew  its 
graceful  length  in  and  out  among  the  arches:  whichever 
way  Peter,  the  head,  went,  the  body  was  sure  to  follow. 
Sometimes  it  steered  direct  for  the  centre  arch;  then, 
as  if  seized  with  a  new  impulse,  turned  away,  and  curled 
itself  about  the  first  one;  then  unwound  slowly,  and 
bending  low,  with  quick,  snake-like  curvings,  crossed 
the  river,  passing  at  length  through  the  farthest  arch. 

When  the  music  was  slow,  the  procession  seemed  to 
crawl  like  a  thing  afraid;  it  grew  livelier,  and  the  crea- 
ture darted  forward  with  a  spring,  gliding  rapidly  among 
the  arches,  in  and  out,  curling,  twisting,  turning,  never 
losing  form,  until,  at  the  shrill  call  of  the  bugle  rising 
above  the  music,  it  suddenly  resolved  itself  into  boys 
and  girls  standing  in  double  semicircle  before  Madame 
van  deck's  pavilion. 


THE   RACE  355 

Peter  and  Gretel  stand  in  the  centre,  in  advance  of 
the  others.  Madame  van  Gleck  rises  majestically. 
Gretel  trembles,  but  feels  that  she  must  look  at  the  beau- 
tiful lady.  She  cannot  hear  what  is  said,  there  is  such 
a  buzzing  all  around  her.  She  is  thinking  that  she  ought 
to  try  and  make  a  courtesy,  such  as  her  mother  makes 
to  the  meester,  when  suddenly  something  so  dazzling  is 
placed  in  her  hand  that  she  gives  a  cry  of  joy. 

Then  she  ventures  to  look  about  her.  Peter,  too,  has 
something  in  his  hands.  "Oh,  oh!  how  splendid!"  she 
cries;  and  "Oh!  how  splendid!"  is  echoed  as  far  as 
people  can  see. 

Meantime  the  silver  skates  flash  in  the  sunshine, 
throwing  dashes  of  light  upon  those  two  happy  faces. 

Mevrouw  van  Gend  sends  a  little  messenger  with  her 
bouquets, — one  for  Hilda,  one  for  Carl,  and  others  for 
Peter  and  Gretel. 

At  sight  of  the  flowers,  the  Queen  of  the  Skaters  be- 
comes uncontrollable.  With  a  bright  stare  of  gratitude, 
she  gathers  skates  and  bouquet  in  her  apron,  hugs  them 
to  her  bosom,  and  darts  off  to  search  for  her  father  and 
mother  in  the  scattering  crowd. 


XLV 

JOY   IN   THE    COTTAGE 

PERHAPS  you  were  surprised  to  learn  that  Raff  and 
his  vrouw  were  at  the  skating-race:  you  would  have 
been  more  so,  had  you  been  with  them  on  the  evening 
of  that  merry  2Oth  of  December.  To  see  the  Brinker 
cottage  standing  sulkily  alone  on  the  frozen  marsh,  with 
its  bulgy,  rheumatic-looking  walls,  and  its  slouched  hat 
of  a  roof  pulled  far  over  its  eyes,  one  would  never  suspect 
that  a  lively  scene  was  passing  within.  Without,  nothing 
was  left  of  the  day  but  a  low  line  of  blaze  at  the  horizon. 
A  few  venturesome  clouds  had  already  taken  fire;  and 
others,  with  their  edges  burning,  were  lost  in  the  gather- 
ing smoke. 

A  stray  gleam  of  sunshine,  slipping  down  from  the 
willow-stump,  crept  stealthily  under  the  cottage.  It 
seemed  to  feel  that  the  inmates  would  give  it  welcome, 
if  it  could  only  get  near  them.  The  room  under  which 
it  hid  was  as  clean  as  clean  could  be.  The  very  cracks 

in  the  rafters  were  polished.     Delicious  odors  filled  the 

356 


JOY  IN  THE  COTTAGE  357 

air.  A  huge  peat-fire  upon  the  hearth  sent  flashes  of 
harmless  lightning  at  the  sombre  walls.  It  played,  in 
turn,  upon  the  great  leathern  Bible,  upon  GreteFs  closet- 
bed,  the  household  things  on  their  pegs,  and  the  beau- 
tiful silver  skates  and  the  flowers  upon  the  table.  Dame 
Drinker's  honest  face  shone  and  twinkled  in  the  changing 
light.  Gretel  and  Hans,  with  arms  intertwined,  were 
leaning  against  the  fireplace,  laughing  merrily;  and  RafF 
Brinker  was  dancing ! 

I  do  not  mean  that  he  was  pirouetting,  or  cutting  a 
pigeon-wing,  either  of  which  would  have  been  entirely 
too  undignified  for  the  father  of  a  family:  I  simply  affirm 
that,  while  they  were  chatting  pleasantly  together,  RafF 
suddenly  sprang  from  his  seat,  snapped  his  fingers,  and 
performed  two  or  three  flourishes  very  much  like  the 
climax  of  a  Highland  fling.  Next  he  caught  his  vrouw.'m 
his  arms,  and  fairly  lifted  her  from  the  ground  in  his  delight. 

"Huzza!"  he  cried.  "I  have  it!  I  have  it!  It's 
THOMAS  HIGGS.  That's  the  name !  It  came  upon  me 
like  a  flash.  Write  it  down,  lad;  write  it  down!" 

Some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 

"It  is  the  meester,"  cried  the  delighted  dame.  "Goede 
Gunst,  how  things  come  to  pass !" 

Mother  and  children  came  in  merry  collision  as  they 
rushed  to  open  the  door. 

It  was  not  the  doctor,  after  all,  but  three  boys, — 
Peter  van  Holp,  Lambert  and  Ben. 

"Good-evening,  young  gentlemen  !"  said  Dame  Brinker, 


358  HANS   BRINKER 

so  happy  and  proud  that  she  would  scarce  have  been  sur- 
prised at  a  visit  from  the  king  himself. 

"Good-evening,  jufvrouw!"  said  the  trio,  making 
magnificent  bows. 

"Dear  me!"  thought  Dame  Brinker  as  she  bobbed 
up  and  down  like  a  churn-dasher:  "it's  lucky  I  learned 
to  courtesy  at  Heidelberg!" 

Raff  was  content  to  return  the  boys'  salutations  with 
a  respectful  nod. 

"Pray  be  seated,  young  masters,"  said  the  dame,  as 
Gretel  bashfully  thrust  a  stool  toward  them.  "There's 
a  lack  of  chairs,  as  you  see:  but  this  one  by  the  fire  is 
at  your  service;  and,  if  you  don't  mind  the  hardness, 
that  oak  chest  is  as  good  a  seat  as  the  best. — That's 
right,  Hans,  pull  it  out." 

By  the  time  the  boys  were  seated  to  the  dame's  satis- 
faction, Peter,  acting  as  spokesman,  had  explained  that 
they  were  going  to  attend  a  lecture  at  Amsterdam,  and 
had  stopped  on  the  way  to  return  Hans'  strap. 

"Oh,  mynheer!"  cried  Hans,  earnestly.  "It  is  too 
much  trouble.  I  am  very  sorry." 

"No  trouble  at  all,  Hans.  I  could  have  waited  for 
you  to  come  to  your  work  to-morrow,  had  I  not  wished 
to  call.  And,  Hans,  talking  of  your  work,  my  father  is 
much  pleased  with  it.  A  carver  by  trade  could  not  have 
done  it  better.  He  would  like  to  have  the  south  arbor 
ornamented  also;  but  I  told  him  you  were  going  to 
school  again." 


JOY  IN  THE  COTTAGE  359 

"Ay!"    put    in    Raff   Brinker,    emphatically,    "Hans 
must  go  to  school  at  once,  and  Gretel  as  well:    that  is 


true." 


"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  responded  Peter, 
turning  toward  the  father,  "and  very  glad  to  know  that 
you  are  again  a  well  man." 

"Yes,  young  master,  a  well  man,  and  able  to  work  as 
steady  as  ever,  thank  God !" 

[Here  Hans  hastily  wrote  something  on  the  edge  of  a 
time-worn  almanac  that  hung  by  the  chimney-place.] 

"Ay,  that's  right,  lad,  set  it  down.  Figgs — Wiggs — 
alack,  alack!"  added  Raff,  in  great  dismay,  "it's  gone 
again !" 

"All  right,  father,"  said  Hans,  "the  name's  down  now 
in  black  and  white.  Here,  look  at  it,  father:  mayhap 
the  rest  will  come  to  you.  If  we  had  the  place  as  well, 
it  would  be  complete."  Then,  turning  to  Peter,  he  said 
in  a  low  tone,  "I  have  an  important  errand  in  town, 
mynheer;  and  if — " 

"Wist!"  exclaimed  the  dame,  lifting  her  hands, — 
"not  to  Amsterdam  to-night,  and  you've  owned  your 
legs  were  aching  under  you.  Nay,  nay,  it'll  be  soon 
enough  to  go  at  early  daylight." 

"Daylight,  indeed  !"  echoed  Raff.  "That  would  never 
do.  Nay,  Meitje,  he  must  go  this  hour." 

The  mouw  looked  for  an  instant  as  if  Raff's  recovery 
was  becoming  rather  a  doubtful  benefit:  her  word  was 
no  longer  sole  law  in  the  house.  Fortunately  the  proverb, 


360  HANS   BRINKER 

"Humble  wife  is  husband's  boss,"  had  taken  deep  root 
in  her  mind:   even  as  the  dame  pondered,  it  bloomed. 

"Very  well,  Raff,"  she  said  smilingly,  "it  is  thy  boy 
as  well  as  mine.    Ah !    I've  a  troublesome  house,  young 


masters." 


Just  then  Peter  drew  a  long  strap  from  his  pocket. 

Handing  it  to  Hans,  he  said  in  an  undertone,  "I 
need  not  thank  you  for  lending  me  this,  Hans  Brinker. 
Such  boys  as  you  do  not  ask  for  thanks;  but  I  must 
say  you  did  me  a  great  kindness,  and  I  am  proud  to 
acknowledge  it.  I  did  not  know,"  he  added  laughingly, 
"until  fairly  in  the  race,  how  anxious  I  was  to  win." 

Hans  was  glad  to  join  in  Peter's  laugh:  it  covered  his 
embarrassment,  and  gave  his  face  a  chance  to  cool  off 
a  little.  Honest,  generous  boys  like  Hans  have  such  a 
stupid  way  of  blushing  when  you  least  expect  it. 

"It  was  nothing,  mynheer,"  said  the  dame,  hasten- 
ing to  her  son's  relief.  "The  lad's  whole  soul  was  in 
having  you  win  the  race:  I  know  it  was." 

This  helped  matters  beautifully. 

"Ah,  mynheer!"  Hans  hurried  to  say,  "from  the  first 
start  I  felt  stiff  and  strange  on  my  feet.  I  was  well  out 
of  it,  so  long  as  I  had  no  chance  of  winning." 

Peter  looked  rather  distressed. 

"We  may  hold  different  opinions  there.  That  part  of 
the  business  troubles  me.  It  is  too  late  to  mend  it  now; 
but  it  would  be  really  a  kindness  to  me  if — " 

The  rest  of  Peter's  speech  was  uttered  so  confidentially 


JOY  IN  THE  COTTAGE  361 

that  I  cannot  record  it.  Enough  to  say,  Hans  soon 
started  back  in  dismay;  and  Peter,  looking  very  much 
ashamed,  stammered  out  something  to  the  effect  that 
he  would  keep  them,  since  he  won  the  race;  but  it  was 
"all  wrong." 

Here  Van  Mounen  coughed,  as  if  to  remind  Peter 
that  lecture-hour  was  approaching  fast.  At  the  same 
moment  Ben  laid  something  upon  the  table. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Peter,  "I  forgot  my  other  errand. 
Your  sister  ran  off  so  quickly  to-day  that  Madame  van 
Gleck  had  no  opportunity  to  give  her  the  case  for  her 
skates." 

"S-s-t!"  said  Dame  Brinker,  shaking  her  head  re- 
proachfully at  Gretel,  "she  was  a  very  rude  girl,  I'm 
sure."  [Secretly  she  was  thinking  that  very  few  women 
had  such  a  fine  little  daughter.] 

"No,  indeed!"  laughed  Peter:  "she  did  exactly  the 
right  thing, — ran  home  with  her  hard-won  treasures: 
who  would  not  ? —  Don't  let  us  detain  you,  Hans,"  he 
continued,  turning  as  he  spoke;  but  Hans,  who  was 
eagerly  watching  the  father,  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
their  presence. 

Meantime,  Raff,  lost  in  thought,  was  repeating  under 
his  breath,  "Thomas  Higgs,  Thomas  Higgs;  ay,  that's 
the  name.  Alack !  if  I  could  but  tell  the  place  as  well." 

The  skate-case  was  elegantly  made  of  crimson  morocco, 
ornamented  with  silver.  If  a  fairy  had  breathed  upon 
its  tiny  key,  or  Jack  Frost  himself  designed  its  delicate 


362  HANS   DRINKER 

tracery,  they  could  not  have  been  more  daintily  beau- 
tiful. FOR  THE  FLEETEST  was  written  upon  the  cover  in 
sparkling  letters.  It  was  lined  with  velvet;  and  in  one 
corner  was  stamped  the  name  and  address  of  the  maker. 

Gretel  thanked  Peter  in  her  own  simple  way;  then 
being  quite  delighted  and  confused,  and  not  knowing 
what  else  to  do,  lifted  the  case,  carefully  examining  it 
in  every  part.  "It's  made  by  Mynheer  Birmingham," 
she  said  after  a  while,  still  blushing,  and  holding  it  be- 
fore her  eyes. 

"Birmingham  !"  replied  Lambert  van  Mounen:  "that's 
the  name  of  a  place  in  England.  Let  me  see  it." 

"Ha,  ha!"  he  laughed,  holding  the  open  case  toward 
the  firelight,  "no  wonder  you  thought  so.  But  it's  a 
slight  mistake.  The  case  was  made  at  Birmingham; 
but  the  maker's  name  is  in  smaller  letters.  Humph ! 
they're  so  small  I  can't  read  them." 

"Let  me  try,"  said  Peter,  leaning  over  his  shoulder. 
"Why,  man,  it's  perfectly  distinct.  It's  T— H— it's  T— " 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Lambert,  triumphantly,  "if  you 
can  read  it  so  easily,  let's  hear  it.  T — H,  what  ?" 

"T,  H — T,  H.  Oh !  why,  Thomas  Higgs,  to  be  sure," 
replied  Peter,  pleased  to  be  able  to  decipher  it  at  last. 
Then,  feeling  they  had  been  behaving  rather  uncere- 
moniously, he  turned  toward  Hans. 

Peter  turned  pale.  What  was  the  matter  with  the 
people  ?  RafF  and  Hans  had  started  up,  and  were  star- 
ing at  him  in  glad  amazement.  Gretel  looked  wild.  Dame 


JOY  IN  THE  COTTAGE  363 

Brinker,  with  an  unlighted  candle  in  her  hand,  was  rush- 
ing about  the  room,  crying,  "Hans,  Hans!  where's  your 
hat?  Oh,  the  meester!  oh,  the  meester!" 

"Birmingham!  Higgs!"  exclaimed  Hans.  "Did  you 
say  Higgs  ?  We've  found  him  !  I  must  be  off." 

"You  see,  young  masters,"  panted  the  dame,  at  the 
same  time  snatching  Hans'  hat  from  the  bed,  "you  see — 
we  know  him.  He's  our — no,  he  isn't — I  mean — oh, 
Hans,  you  must  go  to  Amsterdam  this  minute!" 

"Good-night,  mynheers!"  panted  Hans,  radiant  with 
sudden  joy, — "good-night!  You  will  excuse  me,  I  must 
go.  Birmingham — Higgs — Higgs — Birmingham!"  And, 
seizing  his  hat  from  his  mother,  and  his  skates  from  Gretel, 
he  rushed  from  the  cottage. 

What  could  the  boys  think,  but  that  the  entire  Brinker 
family  had  gone  suddenly  crazy  ? 

They  bade  an  embarrassed  "good-evening,"  and  turned 
to  go.  But  Raff  stopped  them. 

"This  Thomas  Higgs,  young  masters,  is  a — a  person." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Peter,  quite  sure  that  Raff  was  the 
most  crazy  of  all. 

"Yes,  a  person — a — ahem! — a  friend.  We  thought 
him  dead.  I  hope  it  is  the  same  man.  In  England,  did 
you  say  ?" 

"Yes,  Birmingham,"  answered  Peter:  "it  must  be 
Birmingham  in  England." 

"I  know  the  man,"  said  Ben,  addressing  Lambert. 
"His  factory  is  not  four  miles  from  our  place.  A  queer 


364  HANS  BRINKER 

fellow,  still  as  an  oyster.  Don't  seem  at  all  like  an  Eng- 
lishman. I've  often  seen  him, — a  solemn-looking  chap, 
with  magnificent  eyes.  He  made  a  beautiful  writing- 
case  once  for  me  to  give  Jenny  on  her  birthday.  Makes 
pocket-books,  telescope-cases,  and  all  kinds  of  leather 
work." 

As  this  was  said  in  English,  Van  Mounen,  of  course, 
translated  it  for  the  benefit  of  all  concerned,  noticing 
meanwhile  that  neither  RafF  nor  his  vrouw  looked  very 
miserable,  though  RafF  was  trembling,  and  the  dame's 
eyes  were  swimming  with  tears. 

You  may  believe  the  doctor  heard  every  word  of  the 
story,  when,  later  in  the  evening,  he  came  driving  back 
with  Hans.  "The  three  young  gentlemen  had  been  gone 
some  time,"  Dame  Brinker  said;  "but  like  enough,  by 
hurrying,  it  would  be  easy  to  find  them  coming  out  from 
the  lecture,  wherever  that  was." 

"True,"  said  RafF,  nodding  his  head:  "the  vrouw  al- 
ways hits  upon  the  right  thing.  It  would  be  well  to  see 
the  young  English  gentleman,  mynheer,  before  he  for- 
gets all  about  Thomas  Higgs.  It's  a  slippery  name,  d'ye 
see  ?  One  can't  hold  it  safe  a  minute.  It  come  upon  me 
sudden  and  strong  as  a  pile-driver,  and  my  boy  writ  it 
down.  Ay,  mynheer,  I'd  haste  to  talk  with  the  English 
lad.  He's  seen  your  son  many  a  time — only  to  think 
on't!" 

Dame  Brinker,  raising  her  hands  eagerly,  took  up  the 
thread  of  the  discourse. 


JOY  IN  THE  COTTAGE  365 

"You'll  pick  out  the  lad  quick  enough,  mynheer, 
because  he's  in  company  with  Master  Peter  Van  Holp; 
and  his  hair  curls  all  up  over  his  forehead,  like  foreign 
folk's;  and,  if  you  hear  him  speak,  he  talks  kind  of  big 
and  fast,  only  it's  English;  but  that  wouldn't  be  any 
hinderance  to  your  honor." 

The  doctor  had  already  lifted  his  hat  to  go.  With  a 
beaming  face,  he  muttered  something  about  its  being 
just  like  the  young  scamp  to  give  himself  a  rascally  Eng- 
lish name;  called  Hans  "my  son,"  thereby  making  that 
young  gentleman  happy  as  a  lord;  and  left  the  cottage 
with  very  little  ceremony,  considering  what  a  great 
meester  he  was. 

The  grumbling  coachman  comforted  himself  by  speak- 
ing his  mind  as  he  drove  back  to  Amsterdam.  Since  the 
doctor  was  safely  stowed  away  in  the  coach,  and  could 
not  hear  a  word,  it  was  a  fine  time  to  say  terrible  things 
of  folks,  who  hadn't  no  manner  of  feeling  for  nobody, 
and  who  were  always  wanting  the  horses  a  dozen  times 
of  a  night. 


XLVI 

THE   MYSTERY   OF  THOMAS    HIGGS 

HIGGS'  factory  was  a  mine  of  delight  for  the  gossips 
of  Birmingham.  It  was  a  small  building,  but  quite 
large  enough  to  hold  a  mystery.  Who  the  proprietor 
was,  or  where  he  came  from,  none  could  tell.  He  looked 
like  a  gentleman,  that  was  certain,  though  everybody 
knew  he  had  risen  from  an  apprenticeship;  and  he  could 
handle  his  pen  like  a  writing-master. 

Years  ago  he  had  suddenly  appeared  in  the  place,  a 
lad  of  eighteen;  learned  his  trade  faithfully,  and  risen 
in  the  confidence  of  his  employer;  been  taken  in  as  a 
partner  soon  after  his  time  was  up;  and  finally,  when 
old  Willett  died,  had  assumed  the  business  on  his  own 
account.  This  was  all  that  was  known  of  his  affairs. 

It  was  a  common  remark  among  some  of  the  good 
people  that  he  never  had  a  word  to  say  to  a  Christian 
soul;  while  others  declared,  that  though  he  spoke  beau- 
tiful, when  he  chose  to,  there  was  something  wrong  in 

his  accent.    A  tidy  man,  too,  they  called  him,  all  but  for 

366 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THOMAS  HIGGS     367 

having  that  scandalous  green  pond  alongside  of  his  fac- 
tory, which  wasn't  deep  enough  for  an  eel,  and  was 
"just  a  fever-nest,  as  sure  as  you  live." 

His  nationality  was  a  great  puzzle.  The  English  name 
spoke  plain  enough  for  one  side  of  his  house;  but  of  what 
manner  of  nation  was  his  mother  ?  If  she'd  been  an 
American,  he'd  certain  have  had  high  cheek-bones  and 
reddish  skin;  if  a  German,  he  would  have  known  the 
language,  and  Squire  Smith  declared  he  didn't;  if  French 
(and  his  having  that  frog-pond  made  it  seem  likely),  it 
would  come  out  in  his  speech.  No,  there  was  nothing 
he  could  be  but  Dutch.  And,  strangest  of  all,  though 
the  man  always  pricked  up  his  ears  when  you  talked  of 
Holland,  he  didn't  seem  to  know  the  first  thing  about 
the  country  when  you  put  him  to  the  point. 

Anyhow,  as  no  letters  ever  came  to  him  from  his 
mother's  family  in  Holland,  and  as  nobody  living  had 
ever  seen  old  Higgs,  the  family  couldn't  be  anything 
much.  Probably  Thomas  Higgs  himself  was  no  better 
than  he  should  be,  for  all  he  pretended  to  carry  himself 
so  straight;  and,  for  their  parts,  the  gossips  declared, 
they  were  not  going  to  trouble  their  heads  about  him. 
Consequently  Thomas  Higgs  and  his  affairs  were  never- 
failing  subjects  of  discussion. 

Picture,  then,  the  consternation  among  all  the  good 
people,  when  it  was  announced  by  "somebody  who  was 
there,  and  ought  to  know,"  that  the  post-boy  had  that 
very  morning  handed  Higgs  a  foreign-looking  letter; 


368  HANS   DRINKER 

and  the  man  had  "turned  as  white  as  the  wall,  rushed 
to  his  factory,  talked  a  bit  with  one  of  the  head-workmen, 
and,  without  bidding  a  creature  good-bye,  was  off  bag 
and  baggage  before  you  could  wink,  ma'am."  Mistress 
Scrubbs,  his  landlady,  was  in  deep  affliction.  The  dear 
soul  became  quite  out  of  breath  while  speaking  of  him. 
"To  leave  lodgin's  in  that  suddent  way,  without  never 
so  much  as  a  day's  warnin',  which  was  what  every  woman 
who  didn't  wish  to  be  trodden  under  foot  (which,  thank 
Hewing !  wasn't  her  way)  had  a  perfect  right  to  expect, 
— yes,  and  a  week's  warnin',  now  you  mention  it;  and 
without  even  so  much  as  sayin',  'Many  thanks  to  you, 
Mistress  Scrubbs,  for  all  past  kindnesses,'  which  was 
most  numerous,  though  she  said  it,  who  shouldn't  say 
it, — leastwise  she  wasn't  never  no  kind  of  a  person  to  be 
lookin'  for  thanks  every  minnit.  It  was  really  scander- 
lous,  though,  to  be  sure,  Mister  'iggs  paid  up  everythin' 
to  the  last  farthin';  and  it  fairly  brought  tears  to  her  eyes 
to  see  his  dear  empty  boots  lyin'  there  in  the  corner  of 
his  room,  which  alone  showed  trouble  of  mind;  for  he 
always  stood  'em  up  astraight  as  solgers,  though,  bein' 
half-soled  twice,  they  hadn't,  of  course,  been  worth 
takin'  away." 

Whereupon  her  dearest  friend,  Miss  Scrumpkins,  ran 
home  to  tell  all  about  it.  And,  as  everybody  knew  the 
Scrumpkinses,  a  shining  gossamer  of  news  was  soon 
woven  from  one  end  of  the  street  to  the  other. 

An  investigating  committee  met  that  evening  at  Mrs. 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  THOMAS  HIGGS     369 

Snigham's,  sitting,  in  secret  session,  over  her  best  china. 
Though  invited  only  to  a  quiet  "tea,"  the  amount  of 
judicial  business  they  transacted  on  the  occasion  was 
prodigious.  The  biscuits  were  actually  cold  before  the 
committee  had  a  chance  to  eat  anything.  There  was  so 
much  to  talk  over,  and  it  was  so  important  that  it  should 
be  firmly  established  that  each  member  had  always  been 
"certain  sure  that  something  extraordinary  would  be 
happening  to  that  man  yet,"  that  it  was  near  eight  o'clock 
before  Mrs.  Snigham  gave  anybody  a  second  cup. 


\ 


XLVII 

BROAD    SUNSHINE 

ONE  snowy  day  in  January,  Laurens  Boekman  went 
with  his  father  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  Brinker 
family. 

Raff  was  resting  after  the  labors  of  the  day.  Gretel, 
having  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  was  brushing  every 
speck  of  ash  from  the  hearth.  The  dame  was  spinning; 
and  Hans,  perched  upon  a  stool  by  the  window,  was 
diligently  studying  his  lessons.  A  peaceful,  happy  house- 
hold, whose  main  excitement  during  the  past  week  had 
been  the  looking  forward  to  this  possible  visit  from 
Thomas  Higgs. 

As  soon  as  the  grand  presentation  was  over,  Dame 
Brinker  insisted  upon  giving  her  guests  some  hot  tea. 
"It  was  enough  to  freeze  any  one,"  she  said,  "to  be  out 
in  such  crazy,  blustering  weather/'  While  they  were 
talking  with  her  husband,  she  whispered  to  Gretel  that 
the  young  gentleman's  eyes  and  her  boy's  were  certainly 

as  much  alike  as  four  beans,  to  say  nothing  of  a  way  they 

370 


BROAD  SUNSHINE  371 

both  had  of  looking  as  if  they  were  stupid,  and  yet  knew 
as  much  as  a  body's  grandfather. 

Gretel  was  disappointed.  She  had  looked  forward  to 
a  tragic  scene,  such  as  Annie  Bouman  had  often  de- 
scribed to  her  from  story-books;  and  here  was  the  gentle- 
man who  came  so  near  being  a  murderer,  who  for  ten 
years  had  been  wandering  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  who 
had  believed  himself  deserted  and  scorned  by  his  father, 
the  very  young  gentleman  who  had  fled  from  his  country 
in  such  magnificent  trouble,  sitting  by  the  fire  just  as 
pleasant  and  natural  as  could  be ! 

To  be  sure,  his  voice  had  trembled  when  he  talked 
with  her  parents;  and  he  had  met  his  father's  look  with 
a  bright  kind  of  smile  that  would  have  suited  a  dragon- 
killer  bringing  the  waters  of  perpetual  youth  to  his  king; 
but,  after  all,  he  wasn't  at  all  like  the  conquered  hero  in 
Annie's  book.  He  did  not  say,  lifting  his  hand  toward 
heaven,  "I  hereby  swear  to  be  forever  faithful  to  my 
home,  my  God,  and  my  country,"  which  would  have 
been  only  right  and  proper  under  the  circumstances. 

All  things  considered,  Gretel  was  disappointed.  RafF, 
however,  was  perfectly  satisfied.  The  message  was  de- 
livered; Dr.  Boekman  had  his  son  safe  and  sound;  and 
the  poor  lad  had  done  nothing  sinful,  after  all,  except 
in  thinking  his  father  would  have  abandoned  him  for 
an  accident.  To  be  sure,  the  graceful  stripling  had  be- 
come rather  a  heavy  man.  RafF  had  unconsciously 
hoped  to  clasp  that  same  boyish  hand  again;  but  all 


372  HANS  BRINKER 

things  were  changed  to  Raff,  for  that  matter.  So  he 
pushed  back  every  feeling  but  joy,  as  he  saw  father  and 
son  sitting  side  by  side  at  his  hearthstone.  Meantime 
Hans  was  wholly  occupied  in  the  thought  of  Thomas 
Higgs*  happiness  in  being  able  to  be  the  meester's  as- 
sistant again;  and  Dame  Brinker  was  sighing  softly  to 
herself,  wishing  that  the  lad's  mother  were  alive  to  see 
him, — such  a  fine  young  gentleman  as  he  was, — and 
wondering  how  Dr.  Boekman  could  bear  to  see  the  silver 
watch  getting  so  dull.  He  had  worn  it  ever  since  Raff 
handed  it  over,  that  was  evident.  What  had  he  done 
with  the  gold  one  he  used  to  wear  ? 

The  light  was  shining  full  upon  Dr.  Boekman's  face. 
How  contented  he  looked !  how  much  younger  and 
brighter  than  formerly!  The  hard  lines  were  quite 
melting  away.  He  was  laughing,  as  he  said  to  the 
father, — 

"Am  I  not  a  happy  man,  Raff  Brinker?  My  son  will 
sell  out  his  factory  this  month,  and  open  a  warehouse  in 
Amsterdam.  I  shall  have  all  my  spectacle-cases  for 
nothing." 

Hans  started  from  his  revery.  "A  warehouse,  myn- 
heer !  And  will  Thomas  Higgs — I  mean  is  your  son  not 
to  be  your  assistant  again  ?" 

A  shade  passed  over  the  meester's  face;  but  he  bright- 
ened with  an  effort,  as  he  replied, — 

"Oh,  no!  Laurens  has  had  quite  enough  of  that.  He 
wishes  to  be  a  merchant." 


BROAD  SUNSHINE  373 

Hans  appeared  so  surprised  and  disappointed  that  his 
friend  asked  good-naturedly, — 

"Why  so  silent,  boy  ?  Is  it  any  disgrace  to  be  a 
merchant  ?" 

"N — not  a  disgrace,  mynheer/'  stammered  Hans; 
"but—" 

"But  what?" 

"Why,  the  other  calling  is  so  much  better,"  answered 
Hans,  "so  much  nobler.  I  think,  mynheer,"  he  added, 
kindling  with  enthusiasm,  "that  to  be  a  surgeon,  to  cure 
the  sick  and  crippled,  to  save  human  life,  to  be  able  to 
do  what  you  have  done  for  my  father,  is  the  grandest 
thing  on  earth." 

The  doctor  was  regarding  him  sternly.  Hans  felt 
rebuked.  His  cheeks  were  flushed:  hot  tears  were 
gathering  under  his  lashes. 

"It  is  an  ugly  business,  boy,  this  surgery,"  said  the 
doctor,  still  frowning  at  Hans;  "it  requires  great  patience, 
self-denial  and  perseverance." 

"I  am  sure  it  does,"  cried  Hans,  kindling  again.  "It 
calls  for  wisdom  too,  and  a  reverence  for  God's  work. 
Ah,  mynheer,  it  may  have  its  trials  and  drawbacks;  but 
you  do  not  mean  what  you  say.  It  is  great  and  noble, 
not  ugly !  Pardon  me,  mynheer.  It  is  not  for  me  to 
speak  so  boldly." 

Dr.  Boekman  was  evidently  displeased.  He  turned 
his  back  on  the  boy,  and  conferred  aside  with  Laurens. 
Meanwhile  the  dame  scowled  a  terrible  warning  at  Hans. 


374  HANS  BRINKER 

These  great  people,  she  knew  well  enough,  never  like  to 
hear  poor  folk  speak  up  so  pert. 

The  me  ester  turned  around. 

"How  old  are  you,  Hans  Brinker?" 

"Fifteen,  mynheer,"  was  the  startled  reply. 

"Would  you  like  to  become  a  physician  ?" 

"Yes,  mynheer,"  answered  Hans,  quivering  with 
excitement. 

"Would  you  be  willing,  with  your  parents'  consent, 
to  devote  yourself  to  study,  to  go  to  the  University, 
and,  in  time,  be  a  student  in  my  office?" 

"YES,  mynheer." 

"You  would  not  grow  restless,  think  you,  and  change 
your  mind  just  as  I  had  set  my  heart  upon  preparing  you 
to  be  my  successor?" 

Hans'  eyes  flashed. 

"No,  mynheer!    I  would  not  change." 

"You  may  believe  him  there,"  cried  the  dame,  who 
could  remain  quiet  no  longer.  "Hans  is  like  a  rock, 
when  once  he  decides;  and  as  for  study,  mynheer,  the 
child  has  almost  grown  fast  to  his  books,  of  late.  He 
can  jumble  off  Latin  already,  like  any  priest." 

The  doctor  smiled.  "Well,  Hans,  I  see  nothing  to 
prevent  us  from  carrying  out  this  plan,  if  your  father 
agrees." 

"Ahem!"  said  Raff,  too  proud  of  his  boy  to  be  very 
meek.  "The  fact  is,  mynheer,  I  prefer  an  active,  out-of- 
door  life  myself.  But  if  the  lad's  inclined  to  study  for  a 
meester,  and  he'd  have  the  benefit  of  your  good  word  to 


t 


"YOU   MAY  BELIEVE   HIM  THERE,"  CRIED  THE  DAME.  .  .   .   "HANS  IS  LIKE  A 
ROCK,  WHEN  ONCE  HE  DECIDES" 


BROAD  SUNSHINE  375 

push  him  on  in  the  world,  it's  all  one  to  me.  The  money's 
all  that's  a-wanting;  but  it  mightn't  be  long  with  two 
strong  pair  of  arms  to  earn  it,  before  we — " 

"Tut,  tut!"  interrupted  the  doctor.  "If  I  take  your 
right-hand  man  away,  I  must  pay  the  cost;  and  glad 
enough  shall  I  be  to  do  it.  It  will  be  like  having  two 
sons,  eh,  Laurens  ? — one  a  merchant,  and  the  other  a 
surgeon.  I  shall  be  the  happiest  man  in  Holland.  Come 
to  me  in  the  morning,  Hans,  and  we  will  arrange  matters 


at  once." 


Hans  bowed  assent.  He  dared  not  trust  himself  to 
speak. 

"And,  Brinker,"  continued  the  doctor,  "my  son 
Laurens  will  need  a  trusty,  ready  man  like  you,  when 
he  opens  his  warehouse  in  Amsterdam;  some  one  to 
overlook  matters,  and  see  that  the  lazy  clowns  round 
about  the  place  do  their  duty;  some  one  to —  Why 
don't  you  tell  him  yourself,  you  rascal!" 

This  last  was  addressed  to  the  son,  and  did  not  sound 
half  as  fierce  as  it  looks  in  print.  The  rascal  and  Raff 
soon  understood  each  other  perfectly. 

"I'm  loath  to  leave  the  dikes,"  said  the  latter,  after 
they  had  talked  together  a  while;  "but  you  have  made 
me  such  a  good  offer,  mynheer,  I'd  be  robbing  my  family 
if  I  let  it  go  past  me." 

Take  a  long  look  at  Hans  as  he  stands  there  staring 
gratefully  at  the  meester;  for  you  shall  not  see  him  again 
for  many  a  year. 


376  HANS  BRINKER 

And  Gretel — ah,  what  a  vista  of  puzzling  work  sud- 
denly opens  before  her !  Yes,  for  dear  Hans'  sake  she 
will  study  now.  If  he  really  is  to  be  a  meester,  his  sister 
must  not  shame  his  greatness. 

How  faithfully  those  glancing  eyes  shall  yet  seek  for 
the  jewels  that  lie  hidden  in  rocky  school-books !  And 
how  they  shall  yet  brighten  and  droop  at  the  coming  of 
one  whom  she  knows  of  now  only  as  the  boy  who  wore 
a  red  cap  on  that  wonderful  day  when  she  found  the 
silver  skates  in  her  apron ! 

But  the  doctor  and  Laurens  are  going.  Dame  Drinker 
is  making  her  best  courtesy.  Raff  stands  beside  her, 
looking  every  inch  a  man  as  he  grasps  the  meester's  hand. 
Through  the  open  cottage-door,  we  can  look  out  upon 
the  level  Dutch  landscape,  all  alive  with  the  falling 
snow. 


CONCLUSION 

OUR  story  is  nearly  told.  Time  passes  in  Holland 
just  as  surely  and  steadily  as  here:  in  that  respect,  no 
country  is  odd. 

To  the  Brinker  family  it  has  brought  great  changes. 
Hans  has  spent  the  years  faithfully  and  profitably,  con- 
quering obstacles  as  they  arose,  and  pursuing  one  object 
with  all  the  energy  of  his  nature.  If  often  the  way  has 
been  rugged,  his  resolution  has  never  failed.  Some- 
times he  echoes,  with  his  good  old  friend,  the  words 
said  long  ago  in  that  little  cottage  near  Broek,  "Surgery 
is  an  ugly  business;"  but  always  in  his  heart  of  hearts 
lingers  the  echo  of  those  truer  words,  "It  is  great  and 
noble:  it  awakes  a  reverence  for  God's  work." 

Were  you  in  Amsterdam  to-day,  you  might  see  the 
famous  Dr.  Brinker  riding  in  his  grand  coach  to  visit 
his  patients;  or,  it  might  be,  you  would  see  him  skating 
with  his  own  boys  and  girls  upon  the  frozen  canal.  For 
Annie  Bouman,  the  beautiful,  frank-hearted  peasant- 
girl,  you  would  inquire  in  vain:  but  Annie  Brinker,  the 
vrouw  of  the  great  physician,  is  very  like  her;  only,  as 

377 


378  HANS  BRINKER 

Hans  says,  she  is  even  lovelier,  wiser,  more  like  a  fairy 
godmother,  than  ever. 

Peter  van  Holp,  also,  is  a  married  man.  I  could  have 
told  you  before  that  he  and  Hilda  would  join  hands,  and 
glide  through  life  together,  just  as,  years  ago,  they 
skimmed  side  by  side  over  the  frozen,  sunlit  river. 

Katrinka  is  not  quite  so  merry  as  formerly;  and,  I 
grieve  to  say,  some  of  the  tinkling  bells  are  out  of  tune. 
But  she  is  the  life  of  her  social  circle  still.  I  wish  she 
would  be  in  earnest,  just  for  a  little  while;  but  no,  it 
is  not  her  nature.  Her  cares  and  sorrows  do  nothing 
more  than  disturb  the  tinkling:  they  never  waken  any 
deeper  music. 

Rychie's  soul  has  been  stirred  to  its  depths  during 
these  long  years.  Her  history  would  tell  how  seed  care- 
lessly sown  is  sometimes  reaped  in  anguish,  and  how  a 
golden  harvest  may  follow  a  painful  planting.  If  I  mis- 
take not,  you  may  be  able  to  read  the  written  record 
before  long;  that  is?  if  you  are  familiar  with  the  Dutch 
language.  In  the  witty  but  earnest  author,  whose  words 
are  welcomed  at  this  day  in  thousands  of  Holland  homes, 
few  could  recognize  the  haughty,  flippant  Rychie,  who 
scoffed  at  little  Gretel. 

Lambert  van  Mounen  and  Ludwig  van  Holp  are  good 
Christian  men,  and,  what  is  more  easily  to  be  seen  at  a 
glance,  thriving  citizens.  Both  are  dwellers  in  Amster- 
dam; but  one  clings  to  the  old  city  of  that  name,  and 
the  other  is  a  pilgrim  to  the  new.  Van  Mounen's  pres- 


CONCLUSION  379 

ent  home  is  not  far  from  the  Central  Park;  and  he  says, 
if  the  New  Yorkers  do  their  duty,  the  Park  will  in  time 
equal  his  beautiful  Bosch,  near  the  Hague.  He  often 
thinks  of  the  Katrinka  of  his  boyhood;  but  he  is  glad 
now  that  Katrinka  the  woman  sent  him  away,  though 
it  seemed  at  the  time  his  darkest  hour. 

Carl  Schummel  has  had  a  hard  life.  His  father  met 
with  reverses  in  business;  and  as  Carl  had  not  many 
warm  friends,  and,  above  all,  was  not  sustained  by  noble 
principles,  he  has  been  tossed  about  by  fortune's  battle- 
dore, until  his  gayest  feathers  are  nearly  all  knocked  off. 
He  is  a  book-keeper  in  the  thriving  Amsterdam  house  of 
Boekman  and  Schimmelpenninck.  Voostenwalbert,  the 
junior  partner,  treats  him  kindly;  and  he,  in  turn,  is 
very  respectful  to  the  "monkey  with  a  long  name  for  a 
tail." 

Of  all  our  group  of  Holland  friends,  Jacob  Poot  is  the 
only  one  who  has  passed  away.  Good-natured,  true- 
hearted  and  unselfish  to  the  last,  he  is  mourned  now  as 
heartily  as  he  was  loved  and  laughed  at  while  on  earth. 
He  grew  to  be  very  thin  before  he  died, — thinner  than 
Benjamin  Dobbs,  who  is  now  portliest  among  the  portly. 

Raff  Brinker  and  his  vrouw  have  been  living  comfort- 
ably in  Amsterdam  for  many  years,  a  faithful,  happy 
pair,  as  simple  and  straightforward  in  their  good  fortune 
as  they  were  patient  and  trustful  in  darker  days.  They 
have  a  wmerhuis  near  the  old  cottage;  and  thither  they 
often  repair  with  their  children  and  grandchildren  on 


380  HANS  DRINKER 

pleasant  summer  afternoons,  when  the  pond-lilies  rear 
their  queenly  heads  above  the  water. 

The  story  of  Hans  Brinker  would  be  but  half  told,  if 
we  did  not  leave  him  with  Gretel  standing  near.  Dear, 
quick,  patient  little  Gretel !  What  is  she  now  ?  Ask 
old  Dr.  Boekman:  he  will,  declare  she  is  the  finest  singer, 
the  loveliest  woman,  in  Amsterdam.  Ask  Hans  and  Annie  : 
they  will  assure  you  she  is  the  dearest  sister  ever  known. 
Ask  her  husband, — he  who  wore  the  red  cap  on  the  day 
of  the  grand  skating-race:  you  will  learn  that  she  is  the 
brightest,  sweetest  little  wife  in  Holland.  Ask  Dame 
Brinker  and  Raff:  their  eyes  will  glisten  with  joyous 
tears.  Ask  the  poor:  the  air  will  be  filled  with  blessings. 

But,  lest  you  forget  a  tiny  form  trembling  and  sob- 
bing on  the  mound  before  the  Brinker  cottage,  ask  the 
Van  Glecks:  they  will  never  weary  telling  of  the  darling 
little  girl  who  won  the  silver  skates. 


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